The Fairy-Tail Bride
by dumamoja
Summary: The story of Lucy Heartfilia, who goes from a small village to being the fiance of the Prince of Saber. As she navigates Royalty, Lucy, who really doesn't love Sting, yearns for her true love, who disappeared years e situation worsens when she is kidnapped, setting her off on an adventure of chases, escapes, fights, revenge true love and miracles. By my sister MwaliTatu.
1. The History of Beauty

The History of Beauty, and the Lady in Waiting

 **Yay, someone is going to read my story! Arigato, Reader-san!**

 **PS. This is my first FairyTail fic, so please be patient with me.**

In the year that Lucy Heartfilia was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was Cana Aborona, a maid in the house of Bacchus, a duke in the Cuatro Cerberus Kingdom. It most certainly did not escape the notice of the Duke that an extraordinary creature brought in the mail each morning. Unfortunately, the Duke's notice of the girl did not escape the notice of the _Duchess_ , either. The Duchess had, at one time, a most beautiful body herself, but those days were long gone. She had married her slightly younger husband because of political reasons, (this is well after politics,) and he married her for her money. (This was after money, but then, so is everything. But politics came shortly after.) Both were fully aware of the others intentions, but now, the couple was poor (Since the King of Cuatro had required everything from those loyal to him during a rebellion some years before.) and the Duchess saw no gain from her new political standing (Being that when the King of Cuatro _lost_ the war against the rebels, the rebels re-worked the political structure of the kingdom, making the Duke, while still a duke, no longer in line for the Throne of Cuatro, for he was the former king's cousin, and that line was passed over for the monarchy entirely). The Duchess was, however, very smart… and she knew it well. Each day at breakfast, as she watched her husband making eyes at the fair Cana, she would scheme. And before long, she learned her rival's only flaw…

Booze.

Armed with this knowledge, the Duchess set about putting her plan in motion. Within a fortnight, the palace had become a veritable Alcoholics Anonymous deal breaker. Tray upon tray of champagne sat in the parlors. Everywhere you looked… whole kegs of beer. Bottles of wine chilled in wine coolers in the bedrooms, and brandy and whiskey waited in the halls.

Little did she know that her husband's passions for alcohol rivaled that of the maid's. The Duchess _never_ stood a chance. Upon learning of their shared enthusiasm for all thing alcoholic, the Duke promptly left a signed notice of divorce on the chief magistrate's desk and ran off with Cana to the Kingdom of Magnolia, where they opened a bar and both drank quite a lot until old age claimed them. (Things, it might be noted, did not improve for the Duchess for years afterward. Having been divorced by the Duke, she no longer had a right to live in the Duke's home, despite the fact that he abandoned it in the name of love and alcohol. As such, not only did she no longer have the money the Duke married her for, but she also no longer had the political status she had married the Duke for. This being the case, she went to work in the mansion of the chief magistrate of Cuatro. There, she met and married the head of the housekeeping staff. Poor? Certainly. Politically advanced? By no means… but, happier than she had ever been before. This tale of the Duke, Duchess, and fair maid is well chronicled by the historian Romeo. Except that this is before Romeo.)

The year that Lucy turned ten, the most beautiful woman in the world lived in the Thunder Kingdom, a cousin of the Count Laxus by the name of Evergreen. Her skin was of a creamy perfection, unseen in the Kingdom of Thunder for 50 years. (There had only been eleven perfect complexions in all the world since accurate records were kept.) Evergreen was nineteen when a case of small pox struck the region. The girl survived, even if her skin did not fare as well.

When Lucy was fifteen, Jenny Realight, of the Blue Pegasus people, was _easily_ the loveliest creature. Jenny was twenty-one, and so far did she outshine the nearest competition, that it seemed sure that she would remain the loveliest for many years to come. But then, one day, one of her suitors, (she _had_ 104 of them,) a young man by the name of Hibiki, exclaimed that she was surely the most flawless person yet born. Jenny was, of course, flattered. She then began to ponder the truth behind this impassioned statement. That night, she examined herself critically, pore for pore, in her mirror. (This was after mirrors… they came somewhere betwixt money and politics.) It was noon the next day before she finished her inspection. By that time, she was convinced of Hibiki's assessment. As she wandered her family's glade in the noonday sun, she was happier than she could recall ever being before. _Not only am I perfect,_ she thought to herself, _but I am probably the first perfect person in all the world. Not one part of me can be improved. How happy for me to be rich and perfect and sensitive and young and…_

Young?

The sun's heat seemed to burn a mite hotter than it had been a moment before.

 _Well…_ Jenny thought to herself, _I will_ always _be rich, and of course I'll always be sensitive, but, young? I don't really see how I'll manage to stay young. And if I'm not young,_ how will I stay perfect? _And if I'm not perfect, I'll never get that center fold spot in_ Sorcerer Weekly. (Sorcerer Weekly has been around far longer than most wizards think.) _And if I cannot have the Center Fold, what else is there?_ Jenny scrunched up her eyes to think. It was the first time she had ever scrunched her eyes, and, realizing what she had just done, she ran at a dead sprint back to her mirror to check for permanent damage. She convinced herself after some time that she was, all the same, the picture of perfection. But it was still too late.

She had begun to fret.

The first worry lines etched across her face within a week. Wrinkles showed in a month, and by year's end, creases abounded. She was married soon after, to Hibiki, the very same young mage that accused her of perfection in the first place. She gave him both happiness and hell for many years. (Happiness, for she blessed him with seven beautiful children, three girls and four boys. Hell, for she blamed him for her misfortune each time Sorcerer Weekly arrived in the mail, glaring at him every time she opened to the center fold to find, yet again, that it was not herself, but Mirajane Strauss, who was staring back at her.)

Lucy, at fifteen, of course knew nothing of these happenings. If she had, she would doubtless find the whole thing utterly ridiculous. How much difference could it have made to be only the second most beautiful? Or even eighth? (Lucy, at this age, was of course no where near that high. By this point in life, she was only barely in the top twenty-five, and that was mostly based on potential. It certainly had nothing to do with any particular care she took of herself. She despised anything that took her away from her books, and this included bathing, so she did so as little as possible. She couldn't stand to clean behind her ears. She hated washing her face, and even the _thought_ of brushing her hair made her sick to her stomach.) There were, for Lucy, only three things that she truly enjoyed doing on her father's small farm in the countryside of Saber.

Reading her multitude of books

riding her horse, and, of course,

Tormenting the farm boy.

The horse's name was Plue. (Lucy was only five when the horse was born, and still had a mild lisp. She had _wanted_ to call the animal "Blue", because of the slightly bluish-gray tint to his coat, but her parents had misunderstood her and her father carved the name, "Plue" on the door to his stall in the stable. Even at that young age, Lucy knew when to pick her battles with her father, and decided to go along with it.) Plue came when she called him, went where she steered him, and did what she told him. Farm Boy did what she told _him_ too. He was actually more of a young man now, but he had been only a boy when, orphaned, he came to work for Lucy's father, for he had nowhere else to turn. And although some ten years had passed, Lucy referred to him in that manner still. "Farm Boy, bring up more water from the well." or perhaps, "load up the woodshed, Farm Boy… quickly now, lazy thing, I _will_ call Father on you."

"As you wish."

"As you wish," three simple words. That was all he ever said to her. "Farm Boy," she might say, "go weed the vegetable garden." "As you wish" or, if she were having a bad day, or perhaps, just desired to put him in his place, "Farm Boy, slop the hogs and then brush the cows' fur… _all eight of them,_ Farm Boy, and do not neglect to check each for fleas. Hop to it!" He would only smile. "As you wish." He infuriated her, what with his always being so cheerful.

The farm boy lived in a small hut at the rear of her father's property, and according to Lucy's mother, he kept it well near spotless. When he had candles, he would even read.

"I'll leave that lad an acre in my will." Her father was fond of saying.

"Don't spoil him, Jude." Would be her mother's response.

"And why not, Layla? He has worked this land every bit as hard as I had worked it before my father left _it all_ to me. Hard work ought to be rewarded."

Layla would grudgingly agree. In reality, she _did_ agree whole heartedly with her husband. However, the Heartfilia family was not known for being very well off, and she only wondered if they could afford it. After all, a dowry for Lucy _had_ to come from somewhere. _If_ they could get any young man interested in her. With this thought, Layla would turn on her daughter.

"You didn't bathe this morning, did you, darling?"

"I did, Mother, I did."

"Not with water," her father would join in then "you smell like hay and sweat."

"I've only just come in from my afternoon ride." came from Lucy.

"Oh, dearest," her mother would chide "You really ought to take better care of yourself. The boys don't like for their women to smell of horses."

The mere mention of those beasts in town made Lucy indignant. " _Oh, the boys!"_ she blustered. "I care nothing for those meatheads! Plue _loves_ me, and that is sufficient for me. Thank you very much!"

She said this speech loud, and she said it often.

But whether she liked it or not, things were only just beginning.

Shortly before her sixteenth birthday, it occurred to Lucy that not one of the village girls had spoken to her in over a month. Of course, she wasn't terribly friendly with many of the village girls, but she knew them and they knew her. They would nod; share a cheerful "hello," or some such thing as that. But lately, there had been _nothing_. Heads turned away as she would approach. Finally, Lucy was fed up with this treatment and cornered her only real friend, Levy McGarden, at the blacksmith's shop. This is where she always found the blue haired bookworm, if she wasn't sitting beside the well in the center of the village reading. Levy had confided in Lucy that she found the blacksmith's apprentice, a young man named Gajeel, very attractive. Lucy thought that Levy would be smarter than to desire so rough a character. But then, every girl ought to be allowed her own opinion. Gajeel _was_ more intelligent than the rest of the lot. And it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he was also the only boy that did _not_ openly stare at her _ahem,_ chest.

Lucy asked her friend what was the matter with the rest of the girls in town.

"Well," said Levy, scratching her head, "I suppose the best person to ask would be Lisanna."

"Oh, yes of course." Lucy said glumly. She thanked Levy and headed for the tavern in the center of the village. It wasn't that she disliked Lisanna, she actually found her charming, in her own right. It is only able to be explained in this way: she envied her. Lisanna's family was always better off than Lucy's. It was by no means any fault of the white-haired girl. (You see, even this far back in history, found-less prejudices were nothing new.) The girl was actually quite sweet. Deep down, Lucy hated to think that she had hurt Lisanna in some way. She just hoped the white-haired girl wasn't too upset with her.

"I should think," sobbed Lisanna, "that after what you've done, you would at least have enough decency to know not to pretend to ask."

"But what _have_ I done?"

"What have you done? You've made them all yours… You've stolen _all_ of them!"

Lucy didn't have to ask any more of the white-haired girl. She knew precisely who _them_ was.

The boys.

The hot-headed, dimwitted, knuckle-dragging, thick-skulled, _boys._ (Typically, Lucy would drum up more names to call them, but that would interrupt her current train of thought.) How could Lisanna accuse her of stealing them?

Who would _want_ them, anyway?

 _Boys,_ the blonde sneered, _give me a horse and an open field any day._

Boys. Indeed! All they did was pester and vex and annoy. "May I brush your horse for you, Lucy?" they might ask. "No, thank you, the farm boy does that."

Or perhaps, "May I go riding with you, Lucy?"

"No, I do enjoy riding alone."

"You think that you're better than anyone, don't you, Lucy?"

"I just like riding alone, that's all."

Even this basic conversation would result in stuttering and fumbling, and finally, come to comments about the weather.

"Does it look like rain to you, Lucy?"

"Well, I think not… the skies are clear."

"It may still rain."

"Well, yes, I suppose that it could…"

"You think that you're better than anyone, don't you Lucy?"

"No, I just don't think it's going to rain!"

At night, more often than not, they would congregate in the darkness beyond her bedroom window and laugh at her. At large, she ignored them. Usually, their laughing jeers would turn to full insult. She paid them no mind. She understood that they were mostly looking for a rise out of her. If they grew too bold and crass in their offences, the farm boy settled things for her. He would emerge from his hovel, apparently with a torch, for Lucy could see the flame from her window, and thrash them soundly. The blonde would be lying if she said that the groans of the boys, laying in the grass, accosted by the farm boy, and the frightened squeals of the girls did not often bring a faint smile to her lips. She never failed to thank the pink-haired boy for defending her honor. "As you wish," was all he ever answered.

When she was nearly seventeen, a man in a carriage came to town and watched her as she went to the market. He was still there upon her return, peering out. She paid him no mind, and indeed, by himself, he was of no importance. But he marked a turning point. Other men had eyed Lucy as she went from her father's farm to town and back. But this was the first _noble_ to do so. And it was this gent, whose name has been lost to the passage of time, who mentioned the blonde beauty to Rogue, the captain of the guard.

 _Thank you for reading! I will be honest, I am a slow typer. But I am already working on part two of three for this chapter: "the Captain's Wife, a Visit and a Revelation". I will be looking to update every 3 weeks. Long time, I know… I hate it too, but it's the truth._ _ **Mwali does her frowny face…**_


	2. The Captain's Visit, and A revalation

Thank you guys so much for receiving me vicariously through my brother, Dumamoja!

I am so sorry, guys. I gave myself a super long update period, and I _still_ managed to be late. In my defense, I would have had this done on time, but then my computer decided to start PMS-ing or some crap. I could turn it on and get to my desktop screen and… NADA!  
Plus Dumamoja couldn't get internet to upload on FanFic…sorry…

But we digress.

I am so glad that so many of you have enjoyed my story. A story that I will no longer keep you from with this A/N.

On with the show!

DISCLAIMER: Yep, I just checked… I'm _still_ not Hiro Mashima… or William Goldman… but I'll keep you posted…

 **Chapter I, part two: The Captain's Wife, a Visit, and a Revelation**

The Kingdom of Saber was fixed in the same area where the nation of Florin would eventually settle, some place between France and Germany (this was prior to Europe). By all accounts, it was ruled by King Jimmea Orlando and his second wife, the Queen. In reality, the King was barely hanging on. He could hardly tell the difference anymore betwixt the day and the night, and most of his time was spent in mumbling or sleeping. His age was nearly beyond reckoning, his body had long since betrayed him utterly. The only thing that bothered him now was that he could no longer taste many foods.

It was Prince Sting who truly ran things. If there had been a Europe at the time, it wouldn't have wanted to mess with him. And the captain of the guard was his only confidant, so no one wanted to mess with him either. His name was Rogue, but he rarely had to use it. He was the only captain in the whole nation. The Prince had promoted him to this rank as a birthday present. The happening taking place, obviously, at one of the Captain's wife's many parties.

Minerva was slightly older than her husband. She had been married to him for three years, but before she was the Captain's Wife, she was Princess of Saber. Prince Sting was her younger brother, but Minerva had been passed over for the throne, being that the laws of Saber stipulated that a daughter could only inherit the crown in absence of a male heir. As a princess, Minerva had developed high standards when it came to her apparel. All her clothes came from Hargeon, (this is after Hargeon) and she had superb taste. (This is after taste, but only just, and Minerva seemed to be the only one in all of Saber who possessed it. She was one of the pioneering forces behind the concept of glamour. Without women like Lady Minerva, there would have never been such a thing… or a need for it, for that matter.) The lady's passion for the glamour and class of all fashion and fancy would lead her to one day leave Saber and move to Hargeon on a more permanent basis. There, she would go on to own the finest magic shop in the whole nation.

For the time being, she tried to content herself with sleeping on the finest silks, wearing the finest gowns of satin, silk and other precious fibers, eating the richest foods off of gold plates, and being the single most loved and feared woman in the whole country. Yes, yes… she led a hard life, indeed. In all, Rogue and Minerva Cheney were Couple of the Week in Saber, and had been for many years. (Anyone who had the guts to say differently soon found his guts on the floor before him in the middle of the night.)

 _This is MwaliTatu. Don't worry, there is more chapter still coming. Any time that I interrupt the story, I'll use this fancy italic font, so you can tell the difference. My intrusion here is to address Mashima's use of parentheses in the original text of the FairyTail Bride. Dumamoja, my partner/editor of this work, was constantly asking about the timing of this story. "How can this be before Europe, but after Hargeon?" (Hargeon is still a bustling port town today… if you know where to look for it…)_

 _Or he might ask: "how is this before glamour? It's an ancient concept… see? Glamour, right here in the oxford dictionary…." And finally, he just broke down and sobbed beside me at my desk. "I'M GOING CRAZY! WHEN DOES THIS STORY TAKE PLACE?! HELLLLPPPP!"_

 _I couldn't help him._

 _Either Mashima meant what he said in the parentheses, or he didn't. Maybe it was his way of saying that the story never happened. But if you were to go to the Fiore University Library, you find that it does have a place in the histories of Saber and the surrounding kingdoms. (Again, well chronicled by the historian Romeo.) Well, the facts occurred anyway…. No one can say for sure about the motives behind them._

 _Either way, if the parentheses bother you, don't read them!_

 _Sorry to interrupt._

 _Back to the story…._

"Quick, quick, come here, Layla!" Jude Heartfilia stood in the main living space of his farmhouse, staring, open mouthed and pointing, out the window. "Look, Layla! Darling, look!"

She teased from the stove, where she was making stew. (This is after stew. But, everything's after stew. When Adam and Eve sat down to supper at the end of the sixth day of Creation, when they came to be, what they had was stew). "You look," she told him, smiling, "you know how."

"Ahhh," Lucy's father said from the window, "Ahhh… such riches. Glorious."

Layla looked up briefly from her cooking. "What is it, dearest?"

"You look," he replied, mimicking her, a broad grin spreading on his face. "You know how." She left her stew spoon on the counter and joined her husband at the window. Soon, she was oohing and ahhhing right along with him.

Lucy looked up from her work setting the table and watched them. She shook her head and smiled. They were utterly ridiculous.

"They must be on their way to meet the Prince someplace." Lucy's mother said.

"Yes," her father replied, "probably hunting. That's how the Prince best likes to spend his time. They will probably meet him at the forest's edge."

The "they" to whom Lucy's parents referred, was a procession of the Captain and his wife, and all their pages, and squires, and knights and servants and champions and carriages passing by the narrow muddy cart track that led past the entrance to the Heartfilia Farm.

Lucy joined her parents at the window. "How lucky for us to have seen them pass by this way," her mother commented.

"Indeed," her father replied, "Oh, now I can die."

Layla tenderly took her husband's hand. "Don't." she whispered.

The three peasants stood silently in the window sill, drinking in the glorious light of the nobles who passed them by. Lucy's father was a fairly tall older man, his hands gnarled and calloused from thirty some odd years of toil in the fields. His once blonde hair was greying at the temples, a testament to years of stresses, both physical and mental. Jude Heartfilia had always dreamt of living as the Captain did. He had once been only a mile from the place where the Prince and the Captain had been hunting, and up to this moment, it had been the highlight of his life. No matter how hard he worked, he was a terrible farmer. And he only fancied himself a slightly better husband and father. (Though, if you were to ask his wife or daughter, he was wonderful to them) He could never understand how such a beautiful creature as Lucy could possible be his daughter, but there was no denying it. Her temperament was so much like his that the idea of the two of them butting heads was not an outlandish one. No, indeed- there was no questioning their relationship, and Jude had no intention of trying to.

Layla Heartfilia, of whom, Lucy was the spitting image, was slightly younger than her husband. However, the years had had a similar effect on her appearance as they had on her husband. She had always dreamed of, just for one day, being as beloved and popular as the Captain's wife was rumored to be. She had no clue as how she came to be lucky enough to be Lucy's mother, but she was there when it happened, and that was good enough for her.

Lucy, standing half a head above her parents' worn bodies, still holding the supper dishes, still smelling like Plue, only wished that the procession was not nearly so far away, so that she might see if the Captain's wife's clothing was really so beautiful.

As if the Fates had heard her unvoiced desire, the entourage turned and began to pass through the gate of the Heartfilia Farm

"Here?" he father fairly croaked. "Oh, God, why?"

Lucy's mother turned on him, eyes wide. "Did you forget to pay your taxes?" (This is after taxes. They happened not long after politics. After all if politicians were going to do nothing, they might as well get paid for it. At least, the way they thought about it. And even this far back in history, everyone knew that your opinion didn't matter unless you were in politics.)

No, I didn't forget to pay our taxes." Lucy's father said. "Even if I had, they wouldn't need all that to collect them. What could they possible want from me?" he wondered.

"Go see, go see." Layla told him.

"No, you go, you're better with words."

"No. You. Please."

"We'll both go."

They both went… trembling.

"Cows," was the first word to come out of the captain's mouth as he stepped out of his grand carriage. "I have heard from several sources that the Heartfilia cows produce the best dairy products in all of Saber. And since I was thinking of going into the business for myself, I thought to myself 'Rogue, if you're going to do something new, learn to do it from the best at it you can find.' And that thought has led me here."

"My cows…" Jude repeated, hoping he was not going insane. Because, the truth was -and he had long since stopped trying to convince himself otherwise- that his cows were simply awful. There weren't many weeks that someone didn't complain about the quality of his products. True, things had improved somewhat, since the farm boy had come, but there was no denying that Jude Heartfilia had only been able to make a living off of his cows because he was the only one within fifty miles who owned any cows, and thus had a monopoly on the goods cows provided. But then, it wouldn't do for him to disagree with his honored guest. He turned to Layla. "What would you say is the secret to my cows' success, dear?"

"Oh, there are so many…" she said slowly – she was no fool, especially when it came to the quality of their livestock. " It's hard to pinpoint any one method as being the most effective, sir…"

"You two are childless, are you?" from the Captain.

"No, sir." from Jude.

"Well, let me speak to her, then. Perhaps she will be a little more prompt and concise in her answers than her parents."

Jude turned to the house and motioned to his daughter. "Lucy! Come out here, please."

"How did you know we had a daughter?" Layla asked the Captain.

"Well, I assumed that it had to be one or the other. Some days I have better luck than..." his voice trailed off then, because Lucy was heading timidly down the hill toward the rest of the group. The blonde swallowed hard.

The captain turned more toward her. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes. His skin was fair and smooth, as though he had never seen a farm before, much less worked one. It struck Lucy that he was probably the sort who was used to having need of nothing, living so long in the good graces of the Royal family. She felt it in the haughty way in which he carried himself. She disliked him instantly.

"Curtsy, dear." Layla reminded her gently.

Lucy did the best she could. Grace was not something at which she excelled. There was no need of it in day to day life on the farm.

And the captain kept looking at her

You must understand… at this point in life Lucy was only in the top twenty-five in beauty. Her hair was dirty and unbrushed, her face was smudged with dirt, she stank of horses, and her clothes were filthy. She was only seventeen, and thus still had the remains of baby fat. Nothing had been done to the girl. Nothing was really there but potential.

And yet, the Captain could not stop looking at her.

"The Captain is interested in the secret of our cows' greatness. Is that not right, my lord?"

The Captain could only nod. He could not tear his eyes away from the girl.

Lucy shrugged. "Ask the farm boy, he tends them."

"And is that the farm boy?" a new voice asked from within the carriage. Lady Minerva's face appeared in the doorway. Her lips were perfectly red, her face gracefully white. Her hair was as dark as her husband's, partly pulled into twin buns, while the rest tumbled down to her waist. All the colors of the world were outdone by the brilliance of her gown. Lucy wanted to shield her eyes from the radiance. It was a little too loud for her liking.

Lucy's father glanced back at the lone figure to whom the lady pointed. "It is."

"Bring him to me."

"Your Ladyship," Lucy's mother said, "he is improperly dressed for meeting such as yourself."

"His is not the first bare chest I have seen." She replied, then called out to the farm boy, "YOU!" she gestured to the ground in front of the carriage. "Come here!" She snapped her fingers on here.

The farm boy, as always, did as he was told.

When he was close, the Captain's wife stepped down from the buggy.

When he was a few steps behind Lucy, he stopped, lowering his head. He was perfectly embarrassed by his attire. Worn out trousers that were muddied and torn, ragged boots, and a tattered white scarf tied around his head, keeping the sweat from his eyes. His hands were clasped tight, as if begging for forgiveness for appearing in this fashion.

The scarf had been given to him by his mother when he was eight years old. She had been on her deathbed, and was nearing the end. She told him that it had belonged to his father, and that it was all she had left of him since he had disappeared when the boy had been very small. The farm boy was never without it.

As he came to the foot of the carriage, the captain's wife stepped toward him. The fabric of her gown brushed his bare skin.

"Have you a name, Farm Boy?"

"Natsu, your Ladyship."

"Well, Natsu," Minerva started. "We've a problem. A problem that you are apparently the only one to solve. We are here, all of us, passionately interested in the subject of cows. We are franticly searching for the answer to one burning question: What is it, Natsu, which accounts for the cows of this farm being the best in all of Saber? What do you do for them?"

"I just feed them, your Ladyship…" the farm boy said confusedly.

"Well," Minerva exclaimed, "There we have it. Clearly, the answer lies somewhere in Natsu's feeding." She offered the farm boy her elbow. "Show me, Natsu."

He took it slowly, still confused. (As anyone might be, if a member of the Royal family showed up asking about anything so odd as the greatness of cows.)"Feed cows for you, your Ladyship?"

"Yes, lad."

"When?"

"Now will be soon enough."

"Your dress will be spoiled, Your Ladyship." The farm boy said gently, hoping not to offend her, "The cowshed is quite foul."

Minerva waved a dismissive hand. "I wear them only once, Natsu, and I burn to see you in action."

With this, they turned to head to the rear of the Heartfilia farm.

"I'll help you, Farm Boy," Lucy volunteered.

"Perhaps there _is_ something to this idea…" said Captain Rogue, following.

" Perhaps we all ought to go." said Jude, and he and Layla brought up the rear of the cow-feeding outing. They kept watching the captain, who was watching Lucy, who was watching the captain's wife…

Who was watching the Farm Boy.

"I couldn't see anything that he did as being so special." Lucy's father declared, scooting his chair back from the table. "He fed them just the way I trained him to all those years ago." This was after dinner now, and the family was left to themselves once more. "Perhaps," Layla volunteered, "They like him personally. I had a goat when I was a girl who only let me be the one to milk her. Maybe it's the same sort of thing." Saying this, she scraped the stew leavings into a wooden bowl, along with a small chunk of cheese and the heel of that night's loaf of bread. She handed this to her daughter. "Natsu is waiting at the back door; take him his dinner, please."

Lucy went to the back door; opened it, and shoved the bowl at the Farm Boy. "Take it." she said.

He nodded, lowered his eyes, and turned, heading toward his shack to eat. "I…" Lucy began authoritatively, "…did _not_ excuse you, Farm Boy."

He turned. "I don't like what you're doing with Plue." She said. "What you're _not_ doing with him is more the idea. I want him cleaned; head to hoof. Tonight. I want his hooves polished. This very night. I want his tail plaited and his ears massaged. Tonight. I want his stall spotless and his water trough scrubbed and refilled. This very evening. As in now. And if it takes you all night, then it takes you all night. Now you may go."

"As you wish."

She slammed the door in his face and let him eat in darkness.

"I thought," her father started, "that Plue has been looking very well, actually." Lucy said nothing.

"You yourself said so just the other day" her mother reminded her gently.

" I must be overtired." Lucy decided, "The excitement of the day and all."

"Then rest darling, rest," her mother said with an air of good sense. "Horrifying things can happen when you're overtired. For example," she gave Jude a saucy glance, "I was overtired the night that your father proposed."

At this, Jude roared with false indignation, and rose from his chair suddenly. "EXCUSE ME?!" he shouted, his playfulness betrayed by his broad grin. Layla and Lucy gave squeals of delight as he chased them around the house. It was not terribly long before he captured them. (After all, as anyone who has attempted it will tell you, it is no simple thing to run in a dress.) He wrapped both his strong arms around them, squeezing them a little. "I…" he kissed Lucy's forehead, "love…" he planted a quick kiss on Layla's lips, "my girls!" He set them down, and Lucy wrapped her arms around her parents. "We love you too, Papa." she said; and slipped into her bedroom, leaving her parents in one another's arms, her mother's head resting on her father's chest, a smile across both of their faces.

Lucy closed the door gently behind her. She climbed into bed. She breathed deep and closed her eyes.

And the captain's wife was staring at Natsu.

Lucy's eyes snapped open. She got up and undressed. She washed her face. She slipped into her freshly cleaned nightgown, crawled back in between the covers, snuggled down, sighed contentedly, and closed her eyes…

The Lady Minerva was still staring at Natsu!

Lucy kicked her way out of the blankets. She lit a candle, opened her door. Her parents were not in the kitchen anymore. The blonde padded her way across the floor to the sink beside the stove. (This is after both running water and gas stoves.) She poured herself a glass of water. She drained the glass in three gulps. She served herself a second glass and rolled its coolness across her forehead. Her face was still hot. How? That year's autumn was a chilly one. Why should she be feverish? She felt fine. She was seventeen, and had never even had a cavity, (this was before toothpaste, and thus, a great feat.) much less a fever. She dumped the rest of her water firmly into the sink, turned, and marched back to her room. She shut her door solidly, and got back in bed. She blew out her candle and shut her eyes.

MINERVA WAS _STILL_ STARING AT NATSU!

 _Why?_ What possible reason could a princess find to so openly stare at a lowly farm boy? It wasn't as if she, the most beloved and perfect woman in all the history of Saber, if not the world, could _possibly_ be- _interested_ \- in a person so far below her stature.

Lucy tossed back and forth in her bed. There was simply no other way to explain that look. She _was_ interested. Lucy shut her eyes tight and studied the look in _that woman's_ eyes; it was, after all, all but _burned_ into her memory. There was, obviously, something in the farm boy she took a liking to, but what? He had deeply tanned skin from his long days working in the open sun, but who cared about skin? His hair was an inexplicable shade of pink, if you paid any attention to those sorts of things. His eyes were the sort of green that, when the Heartfilia Farm was lost in the endlessness of winter, reminded Lucy of the beauty of spring, if you liked that sort of thing. And he was broad shouldered, but not so much more than the Captain. He _appeared_ to be taller, but that could be explained by the overall spiked style of Natsu's hair.

Lucy sat up, the answer suddenly clear. _It must be his teeth,_ she thought to herself. The farm boy did have exceptional teeth, give credit where it's due. They were set perfectly in his mouth, and Lucy had to admit that they suited him quite well.

But was that all? Lucy reflected seriously. The girls in the village always followed the farm boy around as he made his deliveries, staring. But he always ignored them. After all, if he _had_ opened his mouth, then everyone would know that that was all he had: good teeth. He was, anyway, quite dense.

It was odd, Lucy decided. That someone as refined and well bred as the captain's wife could be hung up on a farm boy's teeth… ridiculous! People were exceedingly complicated. But no matter. She had figured it out now. It was all deduced and clear. Now, at last she could relax. Lucy smiled to herself and lay down once more. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She snuggled in comfortably, closed her eyes and… _people don't stare at other people the way Minerva stared at Natsu because of their teeth._

Lucy groaned. "Come on, Lucy," she said aloud, "pull it together." She closed her eyes once more.

Now _Natsu_ was staring back at _Minerva_! Lucy was standing outside the cowshed, and Natsu was feeding the cows, his muscles rippling as they always did under his tanned skin. And he was looking, for the first time, into the eyes of Lady Minerva. _Staring_ deeply into her eyes. And then he wasn't even feeding the cows anymore, just leaning on his pitch fork, staring. And then at last, he let the pitch fork drop altogether, stepped away from the shed, took Minerva into his arms and…

Lucy jumped out of bed. She ran her fingers nervously through her hair and paced her room. How could he? Well, of course, Lucy didn't have a problem with him looking at her. But he wasn't _just_ looking at her. He was _looking_ at her.

"She's a good piece older than he is." She said aloud. It was true. At this point, Natsu and Lucy were both just barely seventeen. The captain was twenty one, a full adult, and Minerva was four years older than he. She'd never see twenty again, and that was a fact. Her dress looking ridiculous out by the cowshed, and that was a fact too.

Lucy flopped back onto her bed, clutching her pillow across her breasts. That dress was ridiculous before it even got to the shed. It had horrified Lucy the moment that it got out of the carriage. To say nothing of the one wearing it. She looked rotten, what with her mouth painted too big and her eyelashes all but drenched in mascara. (This is after mascara, but the captain's wife was one of the first to pioneer its use outside of Egypt, where it was conceived. Except that this was before Egypt.)

Flailing and thrashing, Lucy wept and tossed and turned and got up, paced, and wept some more, throwing herself onto her bed and starting all over again.

It was a very long, _very_ green night.

She was standing outside of his hut before dawn. Inside, she could hear him, already awake. She knocked. He appeared in the doorframe. He waited. She looked at him. Then, she looked away. He was too beautiful.

"I love you," she said. "I know that this must come as a shock, since all I've ever done is degrade you and order you around, but I've loved you for several hours now, and every moment, more." As she continued, her words picked up speed. "I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man. But a half hour after that, I realized that what I had felt before only the tip of the iceberg." ( Lucy herself had never seen an iceberg, didn't even really know what one was, but she had read that phrase in so many novels that she could deduce the meaning of the saying.) "But then, only five minutes later I understood that _that_ love was only a blade of grass before an open field. Your eyes are like that. Did you know? Well they are. How many minutes ago was I? Fifteen? Were we up to there yet? It doesn't matter." Lucy could still not bring herself to meet his eyes. But the rising sun on her back renewed her courage. "I love you so much more now than fifteen minutes ago that it would be an insult to try to compare the two. I love you so much more now than when you first opened your door that there is no comparison. There is now no room within me for anyone else but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, and my knees shake with sheer blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so that it can answer you. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of my days? I will do that. Are you hungry? Let me prepare of you a feast for each meal. Or, if you thirst, and nothing will quench it but the wine of the FairyTail mead hall in Magnolia, by my soul, I will go to Magnolia, though our nations teeter upon the edge of war, and return with a flask before lunch. Anything that there is that I can do for you, I will do; and anything that I cannot do, I will learn to do. I know that the captain's wife out does me in many ways, as I cannot compete with her in class or skill or wisdom, and I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at her, but remember, please, that she is older than us, and already wed, but for me there is only you. Dearest Natsu, - I've never called you that, have I?- Natsu, Natsu, Natsu, Natsu, Natsu,- darling Natsu, sweetly perfect Natsu, whisper that I've even a chance, after all I've done to you, to ever be worthy of your love." Saying this, she dared the bravest thing she had ever dreamt of doing. She looked right into his eyes.

 _Caution: you WILL hate me for this next line. But please keep reading, it_ does _get better…._

He shut the door in her face.

Without a word.

Without a word

Lucy ran. She whirled and burst into tears, racing away from her greatest embarrassment. (It might be noted here that, had she stood just a few moments longer by the hovel door, Lucy would have _heard_ the unmistakable sound of her beloved Natsu _FANBOYING_ just beyond it, trying to regain his composure before hazarding an answer to the blonde.) She ran, blinded by her tears; she stumbled, slammed into a tree, got up, and kept on running. Her shoulder throbbed from where the tree hit her, (or, more accurately, where _she_ hit the _tree,_ ) but she did not care. The pain of her shoulder did nothing to soothe her shattered heart. She fled back to her own room, her own pillow. Back to the only place in the world she felt fully understood. Safe behind her locked door, she drowned the world with her tears.

Not even _one word._ He didn't even respect her enough for that. _"Sorry,"_ he might have said. Would that have killed him? _"Too late,"_ he could have said.

Why could he not at least say _something?_

Lucy thought very hard about that for a moment. And suddenly, there was the answer. Because, if he'd opened his mouth, it would have all been over.

"DUHHHHHHHHHHHH."

That's what he would have said. That was the kind of thing that Natsu would think to say. "Duhhhh, tanks, Luthy."

At this thought, the blonde dried her eyes and smiled. She heaved a relaxed sigh. It was all a part of growing up. You got these quick little passions, and before the day was out, they were gone. Chalk it all up to experience, old girl, she thought, and let's get on with our lives.

Lucy stood, made her bed, changed her clothes, pulled back her hair into a messy bun, smiled…

And fell upon her bed again, in a blinding fit of tears.

Because there is a limit to just how much a girl could lie to herself.

Natsu wasn't stupid.

Oh, she could pretend he was. She could laugh at the fact that, apparently "As you wish," was the only thing he knew how to say to her. She could chide herself for having nearly fallen for a dope. But the truth was simply this: he had a head on his shoulders; one just as good as his teeth. There was a reason he had not spoken then, and it had nothing to do with his intelligence. He had not spoken because there was nothing to say.

He didn't love her, and that was that.

The tears that Lucy befriended for the remainder of the day were unlike those that had accompanied her to her room that morning. Those were noisy and hot. They pulsed. These were the silent sort. They fell steadily and all they did was remind her that she wasn't good enough. She was seventeen, and all her life, she could have had anyone she'd wanted, and it meant nothing. And the one time it truly mattered to her, she wasn't good enough. All she really knew was riding, and how could that mean anything to a man who had been looked at by the most beloved woman in the nation? Lucy fell into despair.

It was dusk when she heard footsteps outside her door. There was a knock. She dried her eyes. There was another knock. "Who is it?" she asked as she finally pulled herself together.

"Natsu." came the voice.

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU NOW HATE ME! (Laughs manically)

Seriously, though, guys… I _WILL_ update this next part faster. I swear, there is not as much story to get through in the last bit of chapter one. But I will not be rushed. I have seen too many Wattpad authors get burned out by followers constantly begging for updates.

(We know that this is on FanFic, but the same theory applies.)


	3. His Answer and Departure

Me: *Crawls tentatively toward computer* h-h-h-hi, uh, guys…. Heh, Heh, hum, so… Yeah, um… obviously, I'm late… again… Excuse? … I… uh, haven't got one… just… um, my brain, I guess? *Wailing* I'M SOOOOO SORRY, GUYS! DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE? *small voice* Please? … Gomen? Anybody?

Natsu: Um, Mwali… did you check the actual date that you uploaded?

Me: *literally looks at the upload date for the first time. Pulls out calculator and calendar, does the math.* YOU MEAN…?

Natsu: *Grins* yep

Me: OH… MY… GODS! THANK YOU, DRAGNEEL! *hugs him"

Natsu: no problem!

Me: I'm actually on time, guys! Someone break out the record books!

Disclaimer: still no change in identity. I'm still just Mwali.

Chapter I, part 3: His Answer and His Departure

 _Previously on the FairyTail Bride:_

"Who is it?" Lucy asked as she pulled herself together.

"Natsu," came the voice.

"Natsu?" she wondered aloud, "Do I know any… Oh, Farm Boy! It's you! Oh, how droll." She went to the door, unlocked it, and said, in her most high and mighty tone, "Oh, I'm so glad that you've stopped by. I've been feeling so upset with myself for that little game I played on you this morning. Of course, you understood that I was only fooling around. Or at least, I thought you knew, but just as your door clicked shut, I thought to myself, _'Now look, Lucy. You may have gone just a little too far this time.'_ And then I thought of you, you poor silly thing, and how you must have been confused by my fabulous acting skills. I was worried you might have thought that I was serious, but of course we both know that that's ridiculous."

"I've come to say goodbye."

Lucy's heart lurched in her chest, but she held to her fancy tone. "You're going to sleep, you mean? And you've come to say goodnight? That's very sweet of you, Farm Boy. Does this mean that you forgive me for my little jest this morning? Because that means quite a lot to me, because y-"

He cut her off, "I'm leaving."

That's when she noticed the rucksack over his right shoulder. The floor shifted under her feet. "Leaving?"

He nodded.

Lucy gripped the doorframe. "Now?"

"Yes."

"Is it because of what I said this morning?"

He nodded again.

"Oh, I've scared you off, haven't I? I could kill my tongue." She put her head in one hand, still steadying herself on the doorframe with the other. "Oh, well… what's done is done. Your decision's been made. Just remember: I won't take you back after she's through with you. I don't care if you beg."

He just stared at her, brow furrowed.

"You think," she rushed on, "that just because you're so handsome and perfect, that no one can get tired of you. Well you're wrong; they can, and Minerva certainly will. Besides, you are far too poor to finance her lifestyle."

"I'm heading to America, to seek my fortune." He told her. (This was just after America, a little before George Washington, and long after fortunes.) "There's a ship sailing from London very soon. There is great opportunity in America, and I'm going to make the most of it."

"All these years," he continued, "I've been training myself not to need sleep. Only a few hours each night. I'll take a ten hour a day job, and then another, and save every penny of it that I can. Of course, I'll need to spend a piece of it to keep myself fed and strong. And then, when I've saved enough, I will buy a piece of land to farm, and build a house on it for a big family someday; but start with a bed big enough for two."

"You're plain crazy if you think that Minerva will be happy with you in some farmhouse in America. Not with her clothes budget being what it is."

He placed his hand gently but firmly over her mouth. "Lucy. Please. As a special favor to me… don't mention that woman again… before you drive me _maaaaad_!"

Lucy just stared at him.

"Don't you understand what it is I'm trying to tell you?" he asked skeptically, eyes wide in confusion at the creature before him.

Lucy went to speak, but then shook her head. (Remember, Natsu is covering her mouth.)

He shook his too, bewildered. "Man, you'd think with all those romance novels you're always reading, you'd at _least_ understand the basic confession when you hear it." He said, lowering his hand from her mouth.

"So, you're saying you love me?" she said, so quietly, Natsu had to strain to hear.

"Love you?" he asked. "Dragon's Breath, woman! If your love was the flame of a single candle, mine is the inferno of all the stars in the sky. If your love were-"

"Please don't flood my head with images. One at a time." Lucy was growing excited. "So, you're saying your love is as big as that second thing? Oh, help me, Natsu! I get the feeling that we're edge of something really important."

"I've stayed all these years for you. I've taught myself many languages. I've made my body strong because I thought a strong body would please you. I've lived here all these years hoping, _praying,_ that some sudden morning, you might see me for who I want to be to you. There's not been a day that the sight of you did not send my heart rushing against my ribs. Each night, the image of your smile helped me rest my mind and find sleep. And each morning, the thought of you brought a smile to my lips. This _is_ getting through, isn't it? You're just kind of staring at me. Do you want me to go on?"

"Never stop."

"Then there has not been-"

"If you're screwing around with me, Natsu, I'm totally going to kill you."

"What makes you think that I'm screwing with you?"

"It's just, well; you've never _said_ you loved me…"

"Is that really all you need? Okay, here it is: I love you. Slower, perhaps? _IIIIIII LLLLLOOOOOVVVVE YOOOOOOUUUU._ Do you want it backwards? You love I. In Japanese, maybe? Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

"You _are_ teasing me now, aren't you?" the blonde asked with a pout.

"Well, okay, maybe just a little. But you know, I've been saying it for a long time. You just weren't paying attention. Every time you said, 'Farm Boy, do this, do that,' you _thought_ that I was saying 'as you wish'. But is was really 'I love you'. You just never heard me." He added this last part with a twinge of sadness.

"Well, I hear you now, and this I promise you: for me, there is _only_ Natsu Dragneel. Until the day I die."

He took off his beloved scarf and arranged it lovingly around the neck of his beloved soul mate. He brushed her hair away from her face. "I'm going to want that back when you come to me. It was a last gift from my mother. It's all I have left of her or my father."

Lucy found it a little hard to breath. "I'll take good care of it until we are together again. I swear it on our love. I will never be without it."

He grinned, nodding. Took a half-hearted step away. "I'll send for you soon. Trust me."

"Would my Natsu ever lie to me?"

He took another step. "I'm very late. I must go. I hate it, for it takes me from you, not to mention puts me…" he shuddered. "… on a _boat,_ but I must. London is far, and the ship sails soon."

"I understand."

He took her right hand in his.

"Goodbye." He said.

"Goodbye." She replied.

He released her hand, took a third step, not turning. He gave her one last wave, which she returned.

He turned.

And the words tore out of her. _"Without even one kiss?"_

In a moment, they were in one another's arms. His lips were warm and tentative against hers, and Lucy got the sense that this was his first kiss, too.

There have been a great many kisses since its discovery in 4000 BC, (before this date, couples hooked thumbs,) and while everyone agrees upon the basic formula of duration times intensity raised to the power of the value of purity, there is much debate as to how much merit each component ought to receive.

They didn't know it, but theirs was, by any measure, the most pure, perfect kiss of all time. Bested by none, and tying with the legendary first kiss of Naruto Uzumaki and Hinata Hyuga.

That first morning after Natsu's departure, Lucy felt that it was her right to mope about and feel sorry for herself. After all, without the love of her life at her side, life had lost its meaning. How could she go on, what was the point, et cetera, et cetera.

Two seconds later, she realized something very important. Natsu was out in the world now, getting closer and closer to London. What if some beautiful girl led him astray? What if, while she was here moping, he met some beautiful girl that caught his fancy? Or worse, what if he went to America, did all of his hard work, built their house and bed, and finally sent for her after months or years of her childish behavior? She could see it all: the seagulls over head, the gentle rocking of a ship pulling into port. The gangplank would drop, and there she'd see her beloved Natsu. "I'm sending you back." He'd say, "All your moping has destroyed your eyes, self pity has clearly driven you to seek comfort in food, and worry has spoiled your face. I'm going to marry an Indian girl. She lives in a near-by teepee and is always in the peak of condition. But you're welcome to come to the wedding."

At this thought, Lucy ran to her bedroom mirror. "Oh, Natsu," she said, "I mustn't disappoint you." And she hurried downstairs where her parents were just sitting down to breakfast.

"I need your advice," she said, putting her hands on the back of her chair, pulling it out, and sitting down. "What can I do to improve my personal appearance?" At this, Jude's jaw dropped and Layla's fork clattered to the floor.

"Well," said her father, recovering first, "you could start by bathing regularly."

"It would help if you'd do something -anything, really- with your hair." her mother supplied.

"Plow up the territory behind your ears."

"Don't forget to clip your fingernails."

"That will do, for starters." Lucy said holding up a hand. "Goodness, but it isn't easy to be tidy." She shook her head, but she was undaunted.

She set to work. She started the next morning, and continued this routine each day. She would wake, if possible before dawn, and get the farm work done. This was quite a task now, what with Natsu being gone, not to mention that, since the visit from the Cheneys, everyone had doubled their milk order. There was simply no time for self-improvement until after lunch. (This was after the discovery of lunch, but only just…) First, a cold bath. Then, while her hair dried, she would work at fixing her figure faults. One knee seemed a bit too bony, the opposite wrist not bony enough. She would also exercise what was left of her baby fat. (Little left, now, for she was nearly eighteen.) Finally, she would… uuugh… brush her hair.

Her hair was the color of sunshine, and a little longer than her shoulder. She'd be lying if she said that she enjoyed brushing it a thousand strokes at a time, but wouldn't Natsu be pleased when she stepped off the boat in America?

The only drawback was her constant missing him. Her parents had only the barest understanding of her struggle. They had never experienced separation like this before. Unsure of who else she could possibly turn to, Lucy decided to go visit Levy the next day.

Imagine her surprise when she found the bluenette, not in the blacksmith's shop, not at the well in the center of the village, but sitting on the front stoop of her home, picking at an orange absentmindedly. Her younger brothers, Jet and Droy, eyed her warily from the window. Lucy approached her slowly.

"Hey Levy," she said.

"Oh, hey Lucy," her friend replied, looking up. She offered the blonde a segment of the orange. She took it, eating it in two bites.

"What's on your mind, Lu?"

"He is." She replied simply. Her friend, as best friends typically are, was already attuned to the latest of Lucy's romantic developments.

Then, to the blonde's surprise, Levy began to cry. First one tear, then two, and then came her broken sobs.

"Oh, Levy," began Lucy, placing a reassuring hand on her friend's shuddering shoulder. "You're such a good friend to take my struggles so hard…"

The bluenette went right on sobbing. "Thanks, Lu, but I've got troubles of my own! I didn't have the heart to burden you, since you're missing your own man, but _Gajeel_ went with Natsu to America!"

"Wait, he did _WHAT_?" Lucy demanded, her eyes wide. "Why on earth would-"

"Same reason; wanted to make a name for himself so that he could take care of me… tried really hard to make it sound like I was just a burden and he was just trying to take me off my parents hands, but in the end, he kissed me and I knew he was just keeping face." At this, Levy smiled, remembering. She dried her tears.

"But why would he _leave_ you? He was all set to be Metallicana's successor. Was that not a well enough set future for him?"

"Well, he really wasn't very enthusiastic about having to make that choice. He really does love that old man, but he also said that Natsu had come to him specifically, asking Gajeel to join him. He's just the sort that Natsu said he would want with him. Even if they can't stand each other, they're still just as good of friends as we are. We have to be brave for our men, Lucy. If their going to work so hard for us, that's the least we can do."

"Yes, yes of course… brave…" Lucy said in a small voice.

"We have to keep a stiff lip…" even as she said this, Levy's chin quivered, but she held it together.

Lucy sniffed. "Yes, stiff…" and she began to wail, "WWWHHHHYYYYY?"

"Lucy!" her friend said sternly, "Don't start, because I won't be able to SSSTAAAAPPP!" Jet and Droy thought that they looked ridiculous, leaning on each other and sobbing like they were. Girls were so puzzling.

But puzzling or not, the two girls' love for their respective soul mates was definitely having a positive effect on the both of them. Potential became reality almost overnight. People were dazzled as Lucy delivered the milk and cheese each morning, and people often stared at Levy as she sat reading by the well, forgetting their empty water jugs in their hands. Yes, the extra care that especially Lucy was taking in their personally appearances could take some of the credit, but it was their love for their men that truly made the difference. Both of them shot up in the ranks of international beauty with every letter they received from their lovers. Lucy especially loved Natsu's letters. The ship on which they sailed was called The Stella and he loved her. (That was the way his letters always went. 'It's raining today, and I love you. The storm finally passed and I love you. I think this boat is out to kill me and I love you.' Like that.)

Within a month, they zoomed into the top five. (At numbers four and five, though individual positioning varied by who you asked; the McGarden family swore by the beauty of their precious flower while, conversely, the Heartfilias would tell you that their lone star shined brighter. To keep from angering either clan, the rest of the village called it a tie and left it at that.) The two friends cared nothing for what the people said, there was no competition betwixt them. (Indeed, neither had any idea of there being any such rankings in the first place.) In fact, their camaraderie only steadied their positions in the standings, as, because they were not nipping and back biting at one another, and instead stayed true to each other, they both had, not only beautiful faces, but beautiful spirits as well. The other village girls, who had previously tried to behave as though Lucy, and Levy, by association, did not exist, soon began to smile and nod and speak to and laugh with the two girls. A few would ask them about Natsu and Gajeel, respectively, wondering how they were. This was a mistake, unless one happened to have a lot of spare time. Because, when asked how their beloveds were doing, well, they told them. They were marvelous, they were singularly spectacular, they were entirely perfect as usual, and they were incredible and… They could go on for hours. And those who had asked after them tried hard to give their full attention, after all, they spoke so highly of the two men, and they loved them so completely.

 _(CAUTION: BEFORE READING THE NEXT LINE, UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS A_ NALU AND __GALE STORY! _One that is only just beginning…)_

That's why the news of their deaths struck them the way it did.

They walked into Lucy's house one afternoon to the sight of the Heartfilias and McGardens sitting forlorn at the table, speaking in hushed tones.

"In the middle of the night…" from Jude.

"There was no warning…" from Layla.

"Off the shoreline of the Carolinas, from what I heard." supplied Levy's father.

"Oh, how do we tell them?" wondered Levy's mother aloud.

"Tell us what?" asked the girls in unison. "What's going on?"

All four parents rose from their seats and went over, hugging their children. "Oh, darlings," whispered Layla, "Maybe you ought to sit down."

"Why?" Asked Levy as she and Lucy sat down at the kitchen table.

"Something's happened," began Jude warily. And with a deep breath and a chest full of regret, he told them.

Just past midnight, off the coast of America, The Stella was overrun by the Dread Pirate Igneel, a scoundrel who had never left captives alive. The ship was ravaged for goods, every crew member and passenger slaughtered on the deck, and all that was left of the schooner was sent into the depths. The Stella had gone down fighting, though, as the deafening blasts of cannon fire was heard from the shore. As he spoke, Jude could not even look in his daughter's eyes.

Lucy tugged earnestly at the worn fabric of the scarf around her neck with one hand, and clutched at Levy's hand with the other. This didn't make any sense. Natsu… Natsu couldn't be… be _gone,_ could he? No, no, of course not. He was in America, with Gajeel, building a life for the four of them. There would be a pair of letters any day, telling them how well they were doing, and how hard they were working. Promising to send for them soon.

"We're so sorry…" said Layla, gently touching the two girls clasped hands. "Are you going to be alright?"

"We, um…" Levy started, "could we just, have some time? Alone?"

Their parents readily agreed. They could not bear another moment of watching the shattered look in their daughters' eyes.

Without another word, both girls rose from their seats and went up the steps and into Lucy's bedroom, closing the door firmly, but not harshly, behind them.

They sat in silence. Lucy on the edge of the bed, Levy sitting on the stool beside Lucy's desk.

They stayed that way for days in Lucy's room, sometimes crying, one crossing the room to hold the other until the shaking breath of sobs was steadied. In all that time, they neither slept nor ate.

Then, one morning, about a week later, the bedroom door opened, and they went down to breakfast, which their parents (The McGardens came and shared every meal with the Heartfilias after the girls' vigil began,) were about halfway through. Layla and Mrs. McGarden went to rise and set out places for them, but their daughters waved them off. Both fathers turned to gaze at the two creatures in the kitchen doorway.

They were _the_ two most beautiful women in all the world.

They didn't much seem to care.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Layla asked gently.

"Yes," they replied in unison.

"But we've talked it over," Levy began, "And we are certain of one thing…"

"Yes," Lucy agreed, "We… we must never love anyone else ever again."

And they never did.

And Lucy kept Natsu's scarf with her always…

Tada! AGAIN I SAY IT: THIS IS A NALU AND GALE STORY! IT IS NOT A ROMANTIC TRAGEDY! IT IS NOT OVER!

Have a little faith in me… I will take good care of you, our beloved characters, and your feels. I promise!

Trust me… I don't write tragedies… I tried once, and it almost sent me into a depression.

Lala Salaam,

~Mwali


	4. The Prince

Hey, Guys! Are ya ready for some more FairyTail? Just make sure when you're reading, you turn off all the lights and hold your device really close to your face! Just make sure you have enough space for fangirling.

(Comment if you heard Natsu's voice saying that 3)

I still don't own FairyTail or Princess Bride.

Chapter II: The Prince

 _Hey, it's me again. This is my first major cut from Mashima's original text. Chapter I, parts one through three, which are, as a whole, titled "The Bride," are focused almost completely on Lucy. Chapter II, titled "The Prince," didn't even mention Sting until the last three or four pages in the original tale. This is where my brother stopped reading, and I can't blame him._

 _Because what Mashima has done here is unforgivable. He interrupts his narrative with 400- count 'em,_ 400 _– pages of Saberian history. Specifically that of the Saberian crown. AS IN THE ACTUAL PHYSICAL DIADEM, NOT THE ROYAL FAMILY. Everything from where and when the gold was mined, to how long it took to forge it, down to what was done with the leavings. (For those of you who are interested, they were used to fashion the Royal Wedding Bands.)_

 _Dreary doesn't even begin to describe it. Mind numbing is only_ slightly _closer._

 _Of course, any professor at Fiore University (home to the finest Mashima experts in the world,) would undoubtedly tell you that Mashima is a satirical writer who point here was to illustrate the long standing monarchy and its convoluted nature, or some such gobblity gook. Any one of them would probably hang me high for cutting this section, but it doesn't matter. This is my abridgement, and I'm doing it my way._

 _When I first struggled through this portion of the uncut version, I could not help but scratch my head. Why would Mashima, being the master of narrative that he is, shoot his narrative dead before it could even really get started? After much research, I have uncovered an answer:_

 _FILLER STORY ARCS FOR THE ANIME!_

 _This being the case, I have removed this cancer from the text, and pick up where chapter II actually, and finally, begins._

Prince Sting was a young man of about 18 years of age. He was lean and muscular, with wild golden locks, pierced ears and an arrogant glint in his eyes. He, unlike his elder sister Minerva, cared nothing for the finery that his status afforded him. Thus, rather than dressing himself in the typical array of a prince, he wore a simple black sleeveless shirt that was either cut off at the man's upper abdomen, or was just too small for him. (We can't be sure. Professors at the Fiore University have been arguing this topic for years.) He also wore a pair of dark blue three quarter gloves (Which served no known purpose…). About his middle, Sting wore a pair of suspended, high-waist black and white pants with matching high top boots.

Above all these, and, ironically, most elegant, was the young man's blue and gold vest, trimmed with a Vulcan pelt, from a creature he had slain himself. The fur was falling out in places, for he had had the Royal seamstress stitch it for him to begin with, but had since kept it up himself, and he was no tailor. But he didn't _want_ to be a tailor. He wasn't in much of a hurry to be king, either. Even warfare, at which he was masterful, took second place in his affections.

In fact, _everything took second place in his affections._

Hunting was his love.

He made it his habit to never go a day without killing something. He didn't much care what. When he first adopted this practice, he killed only big things: lions, pythons, bears, and the like. However, as his skills increased, the prince began to take more and more pleasure in the sufferings of small creatures as well. He could spend a whole afternoon tracking a flying squirrel through the trees, tracing the steps of a door mouse, or preying upon an elusive trout in rivers. Sting was a relentless huntsman. Once he had focused his energy upon a certain victim, he never tired, never wavered, until he had vanquished his prey. It was death chess, and he was international grand master.

In the beginning, he travel the world, searching for worthy foes. However, as his father's condition worsened, the Prince's habit of constantly being abroad was a concern to the people of Saber. After all, there had to always be a male heir in Saber, and as long as the King lived, there was no problem. But His Majesty would not last forever.

This being the case, Sting commissioned the construction of the Zoo of Death. He designed it himself, with Rogue's assistance. The Prince ordered his servants to travel the world capturing beasts of all types to keep the Zoo dwell stocked for his personal use. Only three people in all the kingdom knew the way into the Zoo: the Prince, (obviously,) Captain Rogue, and the Blunette, (Who inexplicably referred to herself in the third person, though no one ever heard her say her own name.) who was responsible for feeding and caring for all the creatures within.

The Zoo was a series of tunnels dug in one corner of the Palace lawn. It was comprised of five separate levels for different types of prey. The first was for enemies of speed: cheetahs, wild dogs, hummingbirds, squirrels. The second level was devoted to enemies of strength: lions, Vulcans, bears, griffins and such. The third was for poison users: spiders, a myriad of snakes, (Including a one-eyed Cobra) and several species of poison frog. The fourth level was reserved for enemies of fear: blood eagles, (the only species of bird that thrives on human flesh) bats, and as an added challenge, swarms of tracker-jackers, to be avoided at all costs. (Tracker-jackers were a cross species of wasp whose sting was highly hallucinogenic in nature, and incredibly deadly. The Prince ordered them from a country known as Panem, across the Atlantic… but… you guessed it… this was before the Atlantic.) Plus, in their own black pool, the sucking squids. Even the Blunette shuddered when it was feeding time on the fourth level.

The fifth level was empty.

The Prince had constructed it in hopes of someday acquiring the perfect prey, a true challenge to his skill.

Unlikely, but still. Sting was an eternal optimist, and so he had the Blunette always keep Level Five in readiness.

Anyway, there were plenty of other fearsome creatures on the other four levels to keep anyone well occupied. Sting sometimes choose his prey by luck, he had a great spinner with pictures of every beast in the Zoo. He would give the spinner a mighty twirl at breakfast, and the Blunette would ready that breed. Other times, he might choose by feel, saying things like: "I feel strong today, release a rhino." Or perhaps, "I feel quick today, fetch a cheetah." And whatever he requested, of course, was done.

He was contending with a Vulcan when the issue of his father's health made its ultimate intrusion.

He had been grappling with the great beast since sunrise, and at last the hairy thing was weakening. It bit at him repeatedly, a sure sign of weakened arms. Sting dodged his attacks easily. The Vulcan's chest heaved, gasping for air. Sting grinned. He braced himself against the wall of the Pit, (All hand to paw confrontations took place here.) and launched himself at the beast. He alighted on the thing's shoulders, wrapped both arms about its neck, and began to apply pressure to the esophagus.

Rogue's voice echoed from the stairs, "There is news."

"Can it not wait?" annoyance crept into Sting's voice.

"For how long?"

The Prince jerked the Vulcan's neck to one side. The beast crumpled like a rag doll. He climbed out, and the Captain handed him a cloth with which to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Now, what is this all about?"

"Our Father's just had his annual physical…"

"And…?" asked Sting impatiently.

"He's dying, Sting."

"DRAT! That means I'll have to get married."

 **YES, ON TIME OR AHEAD OF SCHEDULE FOR 2 CONSECUTIVE CHAPTERS.**

 **Alas, this was a rather short chapter, but worry not, the next installment makes up for it.**

 **Lala salaam,**

 **-Mwali**

 **Well fanfic, you got your chapter early.**

 **Sorry it's so short but my sister doesn't get deadlines, so she procrastinated a lot.**

 **And with some new technical difficulties, we are in for a rough few weeks.**

 **Baadaye-Duma**

3


	5. The Courtship

**Well, here's the next chapter, guys! As was promised, so shall it be! I'm so sorry that this is so late. I got about halfway done with this chapter, and my flash drive decided to play hide and seek…. Seriously, it was MIA for like three weeks. Even without that, the frigging writer's block was HUGE!**

 **On the bright side, I used the downtime to write three installments for my brand new FairyTail oneshot collection: "FairyTail Fleet Oneshots"!**

 _ ***Mwali does Fab Fairy Dance***_

 **I still don't own FairyTail or The Princess Bride.**

 **PS. This is one of my favorite chapters of my version of the story. Why? I'll give you a hint: it involves a certain redhead… ;)**

 ****the internet tells me that I am the originator of this term "Fleet" with the following definition:**

 **Fleet(Fl-EE-t):** _ **noun.**_ **In the fandoms, this term is to be used to refer to the various Ships within them as a single unit. Specific to Canon.** _ **Example: Gale, Nalu, and Gruvia are some of the many ships in the FairyTail**_ _ **Fleet**_ _ **.**_

Chapter 3: The Courtship

There they stood; the six of them, in the Kings Great Council Room: Prince Sting, his confidant Captain Rogue, his sister Minerva, the King's most trusted advisor, Count Deliorea, King Orlando himself, and his wife, the Queen, Sting's evil step mother.

The Queen (her name was Bella, but that is immaterial,) was easily the most beloved woman in the whole kingdom, and she had married the king long before his mumblings began, and was by now the only one ever bothered to decipher their gist. Sting and Minerva were mere children at the time, the Prince being about five years old. This being the case, the only step mothers either of the children had ever heard of were the evil variety that the nurses and governesses read about in the storybooks each night, and they referred to her this way for the rest of their lives; or "E.S" for short.

"Alright then," Sting began when they were all assembled, "who do I marry? Let's just pick a girl and get on with it."

Old King Orlando said, "I've been _thinking_ it was about time Sting got himself a bride." At least, that was what he _meant_ to say, but it sounded more like "miff men _flinging_ id wa's ambo imer Stink bot mim-elf ah breda."

"You couldn't be more right, my beloved." Said the Queen, patting her husband's arm.

"What did he say?" asked Sting.

"That whatever woman you choose will be getting the most handsome young man in all the kingdom for a husband and lifelong friend."

"He is looking quite well himself." The Prince returned.

"Well, we've just recently changed miracle workers, you know. That accounts for it. Thank you again for finally ridding us of that quack Carla, dearest."

"I was only too happy to do it." replied Sting, "and I'm glad to hear you found a suitable replacement so soon."

"Oh, yes. Samuel is simply _wonderful._ Another Exceed of course. But then, why would anyone want a _human_ miracle worker?" the Queen gave a little laugh at her own joke. No one laughed with her.

"Tell him I've changed miracle workers." Said Orlando. (Remember, he's hard of hearing,) It sounded more like "Del bim mive danged miramil horkins."

"You are right of course, my love."

"Now what did he say?" asked Rogue.

"That our Prince is too great and mighty an individual to marry just _any_ woman." Supplied the Queen.

"Too true," sighed the Prince (it was such a burden to be so inconceivably amazing.) "I suppose that means it must be Erza…"

"That would be a wise choice politically," Agreed Count Deliorea, speaking for the first time.

Princess (Or, Titania, as they called them in her nation,) Erza was heir to the throne of Magnolia across the Strait of Saber.

In Magnolia, they put it a bit differently. In Magnolia, Sabertooth was the kingdom across the Magnolia Channel. In either case, the two nations stayed alive over the centuries mostly by going to war with one another. There had been the Slayer Showdown, and the Grand Magic War, which nearly bankrupted both nations. Then there was the Clash of Mages, which _did_ send them both into insolvency. That was followed rather quickly by The Tartaros War, in which they both became exceedingly wealthy again by teaming up for a brief period to take down the western island nation by that name, and split the compensation that was paid them as part of the peace treaty that ended the war.

"Well," said Sting thoughtfully, "does she hunt? You know I can't marry a woman that won't hunt…"

"I met her a few years back," offered the Queen, "She seemed the hunting type to me. Lithe and strong, and she has one of the largest collections of weapons and armor in the world. I think you'd like her."

Sting thought for a moment. "Skin?"

"Creamy and without any mark or scar of any sort that I saw…"

"Lips?"

"Number or color?"

"Color, ES…"

"Rosy, cheeks the same, and hair a deeper shade of red. Her eyes are large and brown. She told me she had an accident when she was a child that injured her right one, but it healed beautifully. She is always well dressed… she has a wardrobe so large you'd nearly think it had no back." (This last phrase is of course where C. S. Lewis, a great student of the historian Romeo's work, got the starting idea for his tales of Narnia,)

"I suppose that's it then…" said the Prince, "bring her in and let's have a look at her."

"Isn't there a princess in Magnolia that would be about the right age?" asked the King. It sounded more like "pheasant air ah rinses in bag'opeea hat rood bae ambo te gite range?"

"Are you never wrong, my darling?" asked the Queen, gazing into the eyes of her ruler.

"Now what did he say?" asked Minerva. (She had previously been looking at herself in her hand-held mirror, and thus, far too busy to bother with any input before this point.)

"That I should leave this very hour with an invitation." Answered the Queen.

Thus began the legendary visit of the Titania Erza.

 _This is Mwali again. Of all the cuts in this version of the story, I feel most justified in making this one. Just as the_ Daphnearc _of the anime can be past over with absolutely NO effect on the overall story, so can the packing scenes Mashima details here be best left out in the garbage where they belong. Because that, reader-san, is all that really happens for the next one hundred pages of_ The Fairy Tail Bride: _packing! (I include un-packing in the same category…)_

 _What happens is just this: The Queen packs almost her entire wardrobe, (10 pages) and travels to Magnolia (one Page). Once there, she unpacks, (13 pages) and delivers the invitation to the Titania. (One page) Erza accepts, (1/2 page) and packs, including her entire armor collection. (25 and ½ pages) Together, the Queen and the Titania travel back to Saber. (One page… Well, 11 and a half, if you were to include the "brief" summary of a three-day side visit to Hargeon, which centered on cake and the season's latest fashions.) Erza is shown to her quarters, (1/2 page) where she_ unpacks _all those same clothes we just watched her pack 12 pages ago,_ plus _her purchases from the side trip to Hargeon. (36 pages) She then joins the Queen and the rest of the Royal Family, (½ pages) and they go together to the Great Arena, to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of Saber's capital, Alpha, with a great tournament. (½ page)_

 _It is simply baffling. If you ever find yourself unable to sleep, do yourself a favor, and read chapter three of the uncut version._

 _I spoke with a professor at Fiore University about my confusion concerning the passage; he told me he had found it to be the most deliciously satirical passage in the story. Mashima's point, evidently, was to illustrate the fact that, though Saber thought itself far superior to Magnolia, Magnolia was actually the more sophisticated, as shown in the larger number and more intricate nature of the ladies' clothing. I mean, I don't presume to argue with a tenured professor, but HONESTLY!_

 _Thus, I pick up with the Great Tournament._

Sting was very much impressed by the Titania. They had not yet covered the topic of hunting itself, but they _had_ discussed the art of war at length. The redhead made several educated comments about the armor and weapons used by the different competitors, as well as the fighting styles, offering predictions of the different matches. The Prince found her to be most thought-provoking company. The Titania excused herself, and Sting found himself sincerely missing her presence.

At 4:35pm, it seemed that a lasting alliance between Saber and Magnolia was within reach.

At 5:10pm, nothing could have been further from the truth.

What happened is as follows. At 4:35 and eight seconds, the Titania excused herself, complaining of an upset stomach (one can only assume that the young woman had over indulged in her strawberry cakes). At 4:36 and twenty-two seconds, a new match was preparing to begin in the ring below.

The first competitor was a long-time champion of the games: a tall older fellow with rippling muscles and scarred arms and face. He brandished an axe with a head of tarnished bronze, roughly half the size of a modern basketball backboard. The prince stifled a yawn up in the royal box. Hadn't anyone dethroned the old man as champion yet? Sting had been watching this fighter for as long as he could remember. He had analyzed the older man's fighting style to _ad nausium._ There was no joy for the Prince in watching the fighter do battle any longer. His every move could be predicted, and yet no one – save for Sting himself- had defeated him since he first gained fame in the Arena.

Trumpets blared, and at precisely 4:39, the challenger stepped out upon the field of battle.

The newcomer was smaller and more agile than the veteran, clad in simple black armor with a long, silver bladed lance with an ebony grip, and a black cloak, the hood of which was pulled low on the stranger's face, despite the sweltering June heat.

Sting studied the air about this new fighter. They tread lightly on the balls of their feet. They seemed to respect the talent of the older fighter, and yet, at the same time, seemed totally at ease.

King Orlando rang the starting gong, and the two fighters began to circle one another.

They had hardly begun when the Champion cleaved downward on the other with his axe. The other sidestepped with apparent ease, swinging the butt of the lance around to smack the other square in the jaw.

They went on for a short while in this fashion: the older warrior making an attack on the younger; the younger easily dodging or deflecting the blow, then delivering a light strike to the elder.

Sting was, for the first time in many visits to the arena, truly enthralled with simply watching a match. He felt as though he were watching himself down in the ring. The dark warrior seemed at ease almost to the point of boredom. Their every blow was almost a patronizing one, merely to infuriate the champ turned chump. The prince began to grow excited as an idea began to form in his mind. He went to his father on the opposite end of the royal seating area and spoke into his ear. The king, who was always seemingly more _himself_ in the arena, nodded.

At last, at 4:46:30, the dark fighter decided that he was through with playing with this old toy. As the frustrated older warrior made his final tired strike, the other stepped up and into the blow, pushing it to the side. Flipping their weapon in their hand, instead of bringing the butt of their lance high to clock their opponent on the head, as they had before, the nameless warrior went low, sweeping the other's feet from beneath him, so that the former champion now lay face down in the dirt. The other righted their weapon, allowing the blade of their lance to rest against the back of the loser's neck as they planted a firm but gentle foot in the center of his back. The victor looked up at the king in the royal box, peering from beneath the brim of the black hood, still perfectly in place, chest heaving only slightly.

At 4:46 and fifty-two seconds, King Orlando gave the thumbs up signal, and the new champion stepped away from the former. The crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers.

Neither Sting nor the Titania were present in the royal box for this strong and interesting finish.

As the arena's medical staff removed the groaning fallen warrior from the field, the King rang the gong once more, announcing in the clearest voice he could muster that Prince Sting himself would now do battle with this newcomer. This was at 4:45.

At 4:46 and ten seconds, Sting stepped out onto the field. He was clad in his lightest riding armor, brushed iron shoulder and shin guards, and a half breastplate of bronze. A simple, unadorned, silver helmet sat on his head.

The king rang the starting gong, and the fighters began to slowly circle one another. It was 4:47 and five seconds.

Sting studied the warrior before him. A glint of expectation shone in the dark fighter's eye. His steps were not as light as they had been when The Prince had watched the character's first match. His whole demeanor had tightened slightly. Sting had expected as much, for he would've known (who didn't within a thousand miles,) that the Prince of Saber was in a class all his own.

As they circled each other, the Prince quickly went over all he had gleaned from the previous match. First: this newcomer was exceptionally fast. Second, he was a defensive fighter; always a block followed by a strike, never the other way around. And finally: the dark warrior seemed to favor a style of fighting that called for reserving your own energy while sapping your opponent of his.

The solutions were simple enough. To the first, be faster. Hence, his sparing use of light weight armor. To the second, attempt to force the other to lead with a strike. And lastly, avoid grand, sweeping attacks because they will cost too much stamina in the long-term.

A good plan overall.

And one he almost immediately abandoned.

Because his opponent bolted away.

Sting watched for a moment, stunned. Then he gave chase. His adversary was running at a dead sprint towards the main gate of a tower entrance in the center of the arena.

As he went after the dark fighter, the prince heard the shocked gasps of the people in the stands turn to a mix of laughter and booing. What was this coming to? It was ridiculous! It was intolerable! He picked up speed.

The coward reached the gate at 4:48 and ten seconds. Sting was just behind him. Faster than Sting could blink, his opponent used their lance to vault backward over his head, landing just behind him and striking almost immediately. The Prince turned quickly, just managing to deflect the blow off the flat of his blade. He made his own jab, but it was easily parried as the prince had briefly lost his footing. They traded blows, and Sting felt nearly intoxicated with excitement. This was the first fight in many years that caused an adrenaline rush to course through him. This was the most impressive fighter the prince had ever come against. Every strike, every block. The form was so beautiful, Sting found himself resisting the urge to drop his weapon and embrace the artist before him.

They stopped for a moment and regarded one another. "Now _this_ was the level of challenge I'd hoped for!" said Sting, as he readied himself for another bout. The other remained silent, but a smile was just visible from beneath the shadow of their hood.

They went on in this manner for a time. Sting would realize upon his retirement to his chambers that evening, that after the initial confusion, the crowd was silent for the length of the fight, until the end. An end which the crowd brought about.

The air had been thick with anticipation. The noises of blade against blade and grunts of force were the only sounds. The dark warrior brought the butt of their lance around and walloped the prince in the stomach. Sting stumbled back, making a sweeping motion with his blade as he stepped into a depression in the dirt of the arena floor. His Majesty felt his ankle twist, and he swung madly at his opponent as he fell. His sword found a chink in the dark one's armor, and lacerated part of the lower leg.

Both fighters landed on their backsides. As they sat up, there was a collective gasp.

Because the black clad warrior's hood had fallen…

And revealed a shock of blood red hair.

"Titania _Erza?"_ Sting asked in surprise, "but, but…?" The warriors stood slowly nonetheless, and were preparing to do battle once more, only…

"HEY!" a voice rang out in the crowd, "she's hardly even a woman! And a _MAGNOLIAN_ at that! How can we accept her as our queen?" Much booing and throwing of trash into the arena ensued.

It was 5:10.

The council that you met in the beginning of this chapter, this time including the disgraced Titania, reconvened some time later in the arena infirmary, where the two fighters were being treated.

"Well," said the Queen, giving both prince and princess a sympathetic look, "I suppose that's it. I'm so sorry, dears."

"ES is right," said Sting, "If I were to take a wife who is despised by my people, they would soon despise me."

"Yes," replied the Titania, "I suppose it was foolish to believe that so many years of war and hate could be so soon forgiven"

"I hope however," began the prince, "you might accept an offer of friendship? Politics aside? You truly have a gift with warfare, especially for a Magnolian!" this last comment was added in jest.

"Indeed." Returned Erza with a smile, "In truth, I accepted your invitation only with the hope that I might have the opportunity to test my steel with you. This much I know for certain: the stories do not begin to do you justice."

"At least that much is settled," said the prince. "But then," he turned to the rest of the council. "Who do I marry?"

"Do you still want a hunter?" asked Deliorea.

"I'll tell you what I want. I want someone with whom the people will be smitten. I want them to have a new level of respect for me purely because of my bride. I want people to say 'wow, that Sting must be quite a man to have a woman like _that!"_

"In short," said Rogue, "you want the most beautiful in the land?"

"Yes!" replied the prince, "Go out and find her!"

The Captain grinned broadly. "She is already found."

Sting sat on his horse, Rogue riding alongside him at the top of a hill, watching as Lucy rode by on Plue.

"I must court her." He said. "Now."

He rode up beside her. "Marry me." He commanded.

"No, sire." She replied.

"I am your prince, and you will marry me."

"I am your servant, and I refuse."

"I am your future king, and refusing my will means death."

"Then by all means, kill me, Your Highness." She said. "Your sword is there at your side."

"Oh, come along," he replied. "what's so bad about marrying me?"

"Not only you, sire, but any living man. I tried love once, and it didn't work out. I am sworn to never love again"

"Who said anything about love?" he demanded. "All I said was marry me."

"I cannot."

"Look," he said, "There must always be an heir to the throne. That's me. When my father dies, there will need to be a new king. That's me again. I just need you to provide me with an heir. To do that, you'd have to be my queen, and to be that, you'd have to marry me. Understand? It is for the wellbeing of Saber."

Lucy thought for a moment. "Then you promise that you will not love me, nor try to make me love you?"

"I swear it."

"Then," she replied exasperated, "by all means, let us marry."

 _ **Tada! Finally, another chapter! I'm sorry this one took so long, but I really had to get creative with my source text for this chapter. If you read chapter 3 of the original, there are a lot of parallels, but it is VERY different at the same time. Also, I really had to get creative with my portrayal of Sting and Erza's interactions. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please review and make sure you check out my oneshot series!**_

 _ **Lala Salaam,**_

 _ **~Mwali**_

 _ **As was promised in "We Danced" of the Fairy Tail Fleet.**_

 _ **Duma**_


	6. To Be a Princess

To Be a Princess

 **AHHHH…. I love the smell of new fanfiction in the morning…. Or any other time, for that matter! I hope you have fun reading! ALSO, TO ANYONE WHO JUST** **SKIPS** **THE IN-CHAPTER A/Ns, YOU MIGHT WANT TO STOP! THEY HELP THE STORY MAKE SENSE. You've been warned.**

 _Mwali here. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even know that this chapter was in here until I started my abridgment of the tale. Did you know that in the original version, Mashima had this as the longest chapter in the book?_

 _When my father used to read it to me, at this point he'd say, "and with one thing and another and a visit to an ancient village, five years passed." And he'd talk about the gathering in the Alpha City Square and by then he was well into the kidnapping and such._

 _Originally, this chapter was THREE HUNDRED PAGES LONG. Allow me to summarize:_

 _First came the fact that Sting couldn't marry just some common subject, so they fight and argue with the Saberian nobility until they finally made her Princess of Keysmith, a small village on the Outlands that technical belonged to King Orlando, but that no one of importance cared much about. (Obviously, this meant that the blonde had to, at least once grace 'her people' with her presence. This is the only interesting thing in the chapter as Lucy, who had a love of antiques that few people knew of, purchased a lovely set of gold and silver keys that were as old as the kingdom itself, and for which the town was named. As well as a book that described the history of the village and the myths of the Incredible Power imbued into their sacred keys) All this took 60 pages._

 _Then the miracle worker Samuel began trying to improve the King's health and 40 pages are used in describing cures._

 _And then 200 -count 'em 200- pages on the proper behavior of a princess. He follows Lucy day to day, month to month, as she learns the ins and outs of serving tea, curtsying, dancing, how to address neighboring dignitaries and such. All in a satiric vein, of course, in true Mashima style._

 _But other than the blonde's visit to Keysmith, NOTHING HAPPENS! So, 'with one thing and another and a visit to an ancient village, five years passed.'_

 **HA! I BET YOU GUYS THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS GONNA BE A FULL LENGTH UPDATE! NOPE! Seriously though, I had to make sure you all read this through before I go on… It has later implications.**

 **Next update soon!**

 **Worry not, to appease you, I have uploaded a new Oneshot in Fairytail Fleet.**

 **Lala salaam,**

 **~Mwali**


	7. The Announcement

Chapter 5, Part 1: The Announcement

 **Hehehehehe! I'm a little stinker. Sorry about last time. But not really. ENJOY!**

Five years later, the Great Square of Alpha was filled as never before. It seemed the whole kingdom had turned out, awaiting the introduction of Prince Sting's long awaited bride-to-be, Princess Lucy of Keysmith. The crowd had begun to form some forty hours earlier, but up until about twenty-four hours before, there were still fewer than a thousand. But in the five hours prior to the announcement, the numbers soared. No one had ever seen this Princess, but rumors of her beauty flowed continually nonetheless, and each was more impossible than the last.

Lucy sat up in her room, a whole flock of maids fluttering madly around her. They had awoken her some twelve hours before, promptly scrubbing her skin to within an inch of her life, washing her hair, and rubbing her down with all manner of oils and creams.

Now they were chirping noisily, arguing about how to best do the young woman's blonde locks. Exasperated, Lucy turned to the one maid who sat off to her left, doing nothing. One with light blue hair.

Levy patted her friend's arm. "It'll be alright Lu," she said, "They're just trying to help."

 _Ah, Levy._ The blonde sighed. At least _she_ was here. The bluenette had been with her from the beginning. They were there for each other in the tragedy of The Dread Pirate Igneel's attack, then again, Levy was there two years later when both Lucy's parents passed away. The blonde couldn't imagine going through with any of this without the blue haired girl by her side.

At last, the attendants filed out, informing Lucy that she was to be escorted to her place for the introduction by a guard who would arrive shortly. Soon, only Levy remained.

"Is there any way out of this?" The blonde wondered aloud.

"I'm afraid not…" Came Levy's reply. "You gave your word."

"But I don't love him!" Lucy moaned. "I don't even like him. I don't even _know_ him!"

The bluenette only nodded in sympathy.

"I wish every day that our beloveds had not set sail, but now more than ever…" She trailed off.

"I know." Replied Levy.

The guard's knock came at the door, and Lucy fastened her chorded belt, fixing the loop of her antique Keysmith keys thereon.

As the sun reached the height of noon, Prince Sting emerged to the balcony of his father's castle overlooking the Square. He raised his arms high above his head and the crowd slowly quieted.

"My people," he began, "Today is to be a glorious day of greeting. As some of you may have heard, my honorable father's health is not as it was in his youth. He is, after all, eighty-five, and really, we could not ask more of him than the faithful years he has already bestowed upon us."

At this mention of the King's failing health, the crowds stirred uneasily.

"However, do not despair! For I shall be king in his place whenever it is that he is called to his fathers. And, of course, for every new king, there must be a new queen!" saying this, Sting made a wide sweeping gesture, and the doors of the balcony opened grandly and Lucy took her place beside him.

"My people! The Princess… Lucy!"

This Princess was far superior to the Mourner who had emerged from her bedroom so long ago. Her figure faults had faded. Her hair, which she had once tended to herself, now had five full~time hairdressers to wait upon its proverbial hand and foot. (This was well after hairdressers. In truth, ever since there have been women, there have been hairdressers. Adam being the first, though the King James scholars did their best to muddy the point.)

Prince Sting took her hand in his and held it high as the people cheered. "Alright," said Sting, where only Lucy might hear, "that'll do. We mustn't risk overexposure." And he turned to walk back within the confines of the castle.

"But they've waited, some of them, so long," relied Lucy, "I should like to walk among them."

"We do not walk among the commoners unless it is altogether unavoidable." Said the Prince.

"I have known more than a few commoners in my time." Lucy told him. "They will not, I think, do me any harm."

With that, she left the balcony, reappeared a few moments later on the great steps of the castle, and, quite alone, walked open armed into the crowd.

Wherever she went, the people parted. She wandered among them, and always, ahead of her, the crowd swept to either side. Lucy continued slowly, alone and smiling, like some kind of messiah come to rescue her people.

Most of the people there would never forget that day. Obviously, none of them had ever stood so close to perfection, and the great majority instantly adored her. There were those, of course, who, while ready to admit that she was pleasing enough, were withholding judgement as to her capability as a Queen. To be sure, there were some who were outright jealous. Very few hated her.

And only three were plotting to kill her.

Lucy, naturally, knew none of these things. She was smiling, and when people wanted to touch her gown, she let them, and when they wanted to reach out and lightly touch her skin, well, let them do that too. And on the occasion that a small child reached out longingly for her, she would stoop, gently kiss their head, and turn them back toward their mothers. She had studied very hard to do things royally, and wanted very much to succeed, so she kept her posture in check, and her smile gentle, and that her death was so close at hand was a ridiculous idea, and would have only made her laugh, had someone told her.

But-

-in the farthest corner of the Square-

\- in a high room –

-deep in the deepest shadows –

\- the Man in Black was waiting….

Lucy was more than a little weary after her triumph. The half hour she'd spent among the people of Saber in the Square had exhausted her, so she went into her chambers and rested for a bit, and then, toward mid-afternoon, she changed into her riding attire and went with Levy to the stables to fetch Plue.

This was the one aspect of their lives that remained unchanged. Lucy still loved to ride, and every afternoon, weather permitting or not, she and Levy would ride alone together in the wild lands beyond the castle.

It was then that the blonde did her best thinking.

As they rode through the fields and streams and forests, her mind was off on other things. She and Levy rarely spoke to one another during their rides. They simply enjoyed knowing that the other was there.

The walk though the crowds had affected Lucy profoundly, in a way that was most odd. For even though she had spent the last five years doing nothing but training to be a princess and a queen, today was the first time she truly understood that it was all too soon to become a reality.

To Lucy's way of thinking, there were two main issues with this whole affair: (1). Was it wrong to marry someone you didn't even like, and (2), if it was, was it too late to do anything about it?

The answers that came to her, as she and Levy rode along, were: (1) no, and (2), yes.

It wasn't wrong to marry someone you didn't like; it just wasn't right either. If the whole world did it, that wouldn't be good, what with everybody just sort of grunting at one another all the time. But, of course, not everybody did it; so forget that.

The answer to (2) had been even easier. She had given her word, and that, unfortunately, was that. True, he had quite honestly told her that if she refused, he'd have to dispose of her in order to keep respect to the Crown at the proper level; still, she could have, had she so chosen, said "no."

Everyone had told her, ever since she became a princess in training, that she was very likely the most beautiful woman in the history of the world. And now she would soon be the richest and most powerful as well.

But without love.

 _Don't expect life to be perfect,_ she told herself. _You will only end up disappointed._

Dusk was closing in when the two young women crested the hill. They were, perhaps, an hour from the castle, their ride three quarters done. Suddenly, Lucy reigned in Plue, for standing in the dimness beyond was the strangest trio she had ever seen.

The man in front had a darkish tan, with white hair and a series of stripe tattoos on his face. He approached her and Levy alone. The other two remained rooted behind him. The second, a man about a foot or so taller than the former, was dark haired and as slender and erect as the steel sword that hung at his side. Lucy tried to ignore the fact that he was not wearing a shirt.

The third character was taller still, a burly man with a single scar on his face, and white hair despite the fact that he couldn't have been more than two or three years Lucy's senior.

"A word, dear ladies?" Said the first man.

"Speak." Said Lucy with a nod.

"We are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

"There is nothing nearby," replied Levy, "not for many miles."

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream." As the first man said this, the largest of the three strangers came up, pressing his thick fingers expertly against both of their necks. Lucy screamed, to be sure. And then unconsciousness fell like a blanket over her.

 **DUN DUN DDDUUUUNNNN! At least it was longer than last time, right? I told ya'll I was a stinker! I hope you enjoyed it. Part 2 of this chapter is coming soon! After that, though, my updates will probably slow down because I start college on Monday. But I give you my word that I will do my best to keep up with this and Fleet.**

 **~Lala Salaam,**

 _ **Mwali ;)**_


	8. Kidnapped

Chapter 5, Part 2: KIDNAPPED!

 **Hey guys! I gave my word, remember? This chapter is for LoneStorm, for leaving me the BEST review EVER! Happy Reading!**

Lucy awoke to the sound of lapping water.

She was wrapped in a blanket and the big white haired man was putting her in the bottom of a boat of some kind. For a moment, she was about to talk, but then her captors began talking, and she thought it best to listen and not draw attention to herself. So she listened, but it soon became quite difficult to hear. Because of the terrible pounding of her heart.

"Did you take care of the other one?" Came the leader's voice. _Levy._ Lucy had to stop herself from sobbing as she prayed that her dear friend was alright.

"Yeah, yeah, Brain, I got it." That was probably the swordsman. "She wasn't part of the job. I just tied her to her horse and sent her home."

"WHAT?! I told you to kill her!" The first guy, Brain, roared.

"Hey, you said blondie was our concern. You get what you pay for, nothing more."

"FINE! Did you _at least_ tie that bit of fabric to her saddle? That was important."

"Yeah."

"What was that, anyway?" Asked the big guy.

"It was the crest of an army officer in Magnolia. When the girl and the horses reach the castle, that fabric will make the Prince suspect that the Magnolians have abducted his bride. When he finds her body dead on the Magnolia Frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed." Brain's tone was proud.

"You never said anything about killing anybody." Said the big man in an incredulous voice.

"Now, now, Elfman," replied Brain, "I've hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious line of work, a long and glorious tradition."

"I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent girl. I don't think it's very manly." Lucy decided that she liked this Elfman person. Anyone who had doubts about killing her, whatever the reason, was okay in her book.

"AM I GOING MAD," Lucy felt that Brain yelled an awful lot, "OR DID THE WORD 'THINK' ESCAPE YOUR LIPS?! YOU ARE NOT HIRED FOR YOUR BRAINS, YOU DOLT!"

"I agree with Elfman." Stated the swordsman. "I haven't liked the idea of this whole job from the beginning." Lucy decided that she liked him, too.

"OH, THE MIGHTY SOT GRAY HAS SPOKEN!" Brain continued to scream, "What happens to her is not truly your concern! _I_ will kill her. And mark you this, _never forget THIS:_ when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't buy BRANDY!" his voice turned in Lucy's direction, "and YOU," she assumed he meant Elfman, and remained still. "FRIENDLESS, MINDLESS, HELPLESS, HOPELESS! Resenting the fact that you were not so beloved by the village as your sisters. You wanted to be KNOWN! And here I am, wanting to make you rich beyond anything else you've dreamed, and yet you RESIST!"

"Hey!" Said Elfman. "You're gonna wake her. We can't have her hearing that we're gonna kill her, she'll go crazy on us and make this stupid job that much harder. Maybe if we just tell her we're taking her for ransom, she'll cooperate." His voice was sad and hollow.

"That won't do us any good…" replied Brain, "she's been awake for every word of this."

Lucy lay still under the blanket, shocked. How could he have known that? She wondered.

"How can you be sure?" Asked the swordsman.

"Your great leader senses all."

 _Conceited._ Lucy thought.

"Yes, very conceited." Brain answered.

 _He must be a_ mind _reader,_ thought Lucy.

"Are you giving it full sail?" asked Brain.

"Yeah." Said Gray from the tiller.

"Very good," said Brain, "We should be a few hours ahead of any of the Prince's forces." He threw back the blanket that Lucy was wrapped up in and placed his fingers expertly on her face and neck. "You are in excellent hands, Princess. You must rest; we'll have to go a long way before we reach the best place to kill you."

And Lucy fell unconscious once more. 

Elfman wandered over to the mast, sullenly tightening the lines. He really hated this job sometimes. Most of the time.

Gray set the tiller, and walked over to the big man. "You know," he said, "Brain likes to _fuss."_

"Fuss, fuss…" Elfman murmured, twanging the ropes before him, "you mean he likes to scream _at us._ "

The shirtless swordsman smiled. "He probably means no _harm._ "

"He's very very short on… _CHARM."_

"My friend, you've a great gift for rhyme."

"Yes, yes… Some other time."

"Alright, enough of that you two." said Brain as the boat pulled into the Channel.

"Hey, Elf!" Gray continued, "Are there rocks ahead?"

"If there are, we'll all be _dead_!"

"No more rhymes now! I mean it!"

"Anybody want a _peanut?_ "

"AARRGH!"

When she awoke, the blonde knew it was pointless to just lie still. She sat up, rubbing the base of her skull gingerly.

"Well," said Brain, "Good morning, princess! Or… Good evening, I suppose I should say. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought I used a little too much pressure when I put you down for your nap. You've been out for quite a while."

Lucy looked around and saw that he was correct; a single lantern lit the deck of the little sailboat from the aft, where Gray was working the tiller. Beyond that, there was little visibility. No way to tell where they were, or even where they were going.

"In case you're wondering," the tattooed man continued, "which we both know you are, we should reach the Cliffs by dawn. Then it will be only about a half day's travel- maybe a bit more- to the outskirts of Magnolia. And then we will take care of business with you."

Lucy straightened, and tried for a strong tone. "Despite what you think, you will be caught. And when you are, the Prince will see you all hanged."

"Of all the necks on this boat, Your Highness, the one you should be concerned with is your own."

"If you are so certain of your success, then why wait?" She replied. "Kill me now, and save yourself the trouble later."

"Oh, I applaud your valiant effort to be stiff lipped, Highness," said Brain with a smile that dripped with false sympathy, "but you see, that would really take away from the grand theatrical feel of it all. We need to have your blood spilled just within the boundaries of Magnolian territory; which would provide just enough physical evidence that the Magnolians were the ones to kill you. Plus, just to give it an extra layer of delicious drama, if we were to time it just right, your corpse would still be warm when your fiancé found you. Doesn't that sound just like something right out of one of Ichiya's great plays? But this finale shall be penned by my own hand." At this, his grin was genuine. He turned to Gray, who had been looking over his shoulder periodically over the past few minutes. "Why are you doing that?"

"To make sure that no one is following us."

"Well stop it!" Brain commanded, "just relax, it's almost over."

Gray shrugged and turned back to look out over the water again. He looked back to the tattooed leader. "You're _sure_ that no one is following us?"

"That would be inconceivable. No one in Magnolia knows what we've done, and no one in Saber could have caught up with us so fast." Brain smugly laid his head against the railing, then sat up, looking at the bare chested swordsman. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

"Well it's just that I just looked behind us, and something is there."

"WHAT?!" The group hurried over to the aft. Sure enough, another sailboat was cutting its way across the black water, just barely visible in the moonlight that was on again and off again.

Without a thought, (for Brain would have heard it) Lucy flung herself into the sea below.

She stayed under for as long as she dared and then resurfaced, starting to swim towards the unknown ship before her. (After all, what were the odds that the captain of this vessel _also_ happened to want her dead?)

Behind her, there were cries.

"Well?! Go after her!" From Brain.

"I can't swim." Replied the swordsman.

"It's not manly to dog paddle." From Elfman.

"GAHHH!"

That was when the blonde realized that her keys were still aboard the enemy ship. Heart broken, Lucy continued on, leaving them behind. Her arms ached with effort, but she gave them no rest. Her legs kicked and her heart pounded.

"I hear her kicking!" The tattooed man cried. "Veer left!"

The blonde switched to her breaststroke, swimming silently away.

" _Where is she!?"_ Shrieked Brain.

"The eels will get her before we can," said Gray, "just forget it."

Oh, I wish you hadn't mentioned that, thought Lucy.

There was a shrieking across the water.

"Princess," called Brain, with a voice full of smoke and mirrors, "do you know what that sound is? Those are the shrieking eels. If you don't believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they smell human flesh."

Now he had Lucy's attention.

"If you come back now," he intoned, "I give you my word as a gentleman and an assassin that you will die painlessly. I doubt you will get a more generous offer from the eels."

No, Lucy decided, I'll be dead either way. At least I can die my own way.

"Do you know," Brain asked, his voice growing increasingly tight with frustration, "that these eels go completely crazy when they get a whiff of human blood? Then they cannot be controlled. They chew and shred and destroy. I am in a boat, and there is no blood in the water now, so we are both quite safe, but there is a knife in my hand, my lady. So return, or I will cut my arms and legs and catch the blood in a cup, then I shall fling that cup as far as I can into the water, and you will not be so beautiful for long."

Lucy hesitated, silent. Around her now, though it was surely her imagination, she seemed to hear giant tails in the water. She began to tremble with fear. It embarrassed her, but there it was. She only wished the moon would come out for a moment, so she might see if there really were eels, or even if he would really cut himself.

The tattooed man winced loudly.

"He just cut his arm, lady," called Elfman, "it's dripping into the cup now."

Another wince.

"And now his leg," the big white haired man continued. "The cup's getting full."

I don't believe them. Lucy decided. There are no eels, and there is no cup of blood.

"My arm is back to throw," called Brain. "This is the final warning."

I'm not making a peep, the blonde resolved. I go to my parents, and to my dear Natsu.

"Farewell," from the tattooed man.

There was the splash of liquid and liquid.

A pause.

And the eels went mad.

" _Now, she doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time." My father told me._

" _What?"_

" _The eels don't get her. I'm telling you this because you looked nervous."_

"Concerned _, Papa. They're not the same thing." I said that, but between you and me,_ I was _nervous. When you're a kid, you don't think: gee, it's called_ Fairytail Bride, _and since we're just getting into it, I don't think that Mashima is going to make chum of his leading lady._

 _You get hooked into things. So, to any youngsters who are reading this, I'll simply repeat Papa's words, as they soothed me: she doesn't get eaten by the eels at this time._

And the eels went mad.

Nothing can save me, thought Lucy. I am a dead cookie.

Fortunately for all those involved, save the eels, it was about that time that the moon peeked out from behind the clouds.

"There!" Cried Elfman, and as the boat drew close, the giant reached in and grabbed the girl by the arm, and she was back in the safety and care of her murderers.

"Don't catch cold." said Elfman, wrapping a blanket around Lucy's shoulders.

"What's the point?" She asked, "You'll just kill me in the morning."

"He'll do it, actually." He replied, shoving a thumb in Brain's general direction. "We just have to hold you down."

"Shut your stupid mouth!" Said the man in question.

"I don't think he's so stupid," said Lucy. "And I don't think you're so smart, either, with your bloodletting and all. Not exactly grade A-thinking there."

"It worked, didn't it? You're back, aren't you?" He crossed toward her, pressing a cloth against his wounded leg. "Once a woman is sufficiently scared, she screams."

"But I didn't scream; the moon came out." Lucy shot back triumphantly.

Brain backhanded her.

"That's enough!" Shouted Elfman, "You wanna hit something, hit me! I'm a man, I can take it."

Brain glared at him. "Do you want to fight me? I don't think you do. Remember the last time?"

Elfman winced. "Yes sir. Just… Don't use force. Force is mine. It's what you hired me for. Besides, hitting a girl is totally not manlike."

Brain continued to glare for a minute longer, then went back to his side of the boat. "She _would_ have screamed." He fumed, "She was _about_ to cry out. My plan was _ideal as always_. It was only the moon and it's poor timing that robbed me of perfection."

They continued in silence.

 **Tada! Hope you had fun. Part 3: "The Cliffs of Insanity" is coming soon!**

 **So, here's my problem:**

 **The original chapter 5 of the book is 115 pages long (not joking,) so I will have to bust this one into a ton of little chunks in order to update at reasonable intervals.**

 **You may also notice a frequent use of the** **movie** **as source material** **instead of the book** **to speed things up.**

 **Most of you who have reviewed have told me that you haven't read the book yet, but to those of you who have, I am sorry… It hurts me too, believe it.**

 **Sacrifices must be made… After all, "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."**

 **Ya'll are fantastic! I love you!**

 **Please follow/review. It helps me to stay focused on my writing.**

 **Lala salaam,**

 **~Mwali**

 _ **Duma here.**_

 _ **I just want to say, that when Mwali got the awesome review, she only had two paragraphs written.**_

 _ **She finished the rest of the chapter in two hours.**_

 _ **So if anyone asks, yes reviews do indeed give us motivation to write faster.**_

 _ **Dhati-Duma**_


	9. The Cliffs of Insanity

Chapter 5, Part 3: THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!

 **Not going to bore you with some long explanation as to why this is so late. All I will tell you is that I have also a** _ **Mass Update**_ _ **of**_ **"Fairytail Fleet" that I will release before month's end. That sounds like a long time, but when I say mass update, I mean that I have 5 one-shots that are ACTIVELY in the works, Coming Soon to an Internet Near You!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

"Look!" Shouted the swordsman, waking the others on board. "He's right on top of us!" Lucy looked and saw that he was correct. The mysterious boat from last night was far closer now. So close that they could see the man at the tiller. A man in black. "Must be that same fisherman out for a pleasure cruise through eel infested waters alone at night." Said Lucy sarcastically.

"It doesn't matter!" Replied Brain. "SEE!? THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!" he pointed out ahead of them, and sure enough, enormous dark walls of stone seemed to be rising from the foggy channel.

In a matter of minutes, the small boat was anchored in the waters along the edge of the Cliffs. Elfman gathered up a bundle of ropes and harnesses. He piled them up at the cliff face and began to get himself tightly secured in them, mainly tightening a thick leather vest with various secondary harnesses about his middle.

A massive rope dangled from the top of the cliff, so far up that Lucy couldn't see. The shirtless swordsman helped Brain to secure himself to Elfman's left side, Lucy to the large man's back. Gray then carefully secured himself into the harness on the strong man's right side.

"This is perfect!" Said Brain proudly, as they began their ascent. "Only Elfman is strong enough to make it up this way. _He'll_ have to sail around for hours until he makes it to a harbor." _'He'_ , obviously, referring to the mystery man sailing the little black ship from the night before.

More than any of the others, the white-haired leader feared heights. All of his nightmares, and they were never far off, dealt with some oddly familiar demon wrestling him down and hurling him down the mountainside of his mind. So this ascension was most terrifying for him. Or, should have been.

But he would not allow it.

Instead, he focused on the man in black.

There was no way that anyone should have been quick enough to follow them. And yet, from some other world, that black sail had appeared out of the mist. How? How? Brain flogged his incredible mind for an answer, but he found only failure. His frustration at this short coming made him furious. He took a deep breath and, in spite of all his terrible fears, he looked down toward the dark water of the channel.

The man in black was still there, sailing like a bolt towards the cliff face. In only a few moments, he would make the shore.

"Faster!" The tattooed man commanded.

"I'm sorry," replied the giant meekly, "I thought I was going faster."

"Such laziness!" Barked Brain.

"I can't see!" Elfman explained patiently "The girl's hair is in my face. Could somebody tell a hard-working man wether we are halfway?"

"A little more than, I think." Supplied Gray, "Keep up the good work, big guy."

"Thanks." From the climber.

"He's jumping out of his boat now." The swordsman added. No one had to ask who _he_ was.

Six hundred feet in the air now. The great arms continued their toil. Six-Twenty. Six-fifty. Now even faster. Seven hundred.

"He's on the rope. He's starting to climb." Said Gray.

I feel him," answered Elfman, "His weight on the rope. I'm running out of _time_."

"You have the gall to start up your little rhyme game _NOW_!?" shrieked their employer.

"How fast is he?" Asked the giant, his voice straining a little now.

"Very." Said Lucy, daring to look down for the first time.

Brain looked and saw that she was right. The man seemed to be flying. Already, he'd cut there lead by a hundred feet. Perhaps a little more.

"You were supposed to be this colossus. You were this great legendary thing. And yet he gains.

"Well… I'm being a real man and carrying all four of us. He's all by himself." Elfman defended.

"Excuses are for the weak and cowardly!" Brain shouted in his face. "When this is over, I'm getting a new giant, I swear."

"Don't say that, Brain. Please?"

Gray looked up and saw the clifftops come into view. A hundred and fifty feet more, and they would be safe.

Tied hand and foot, sick with fear, Lucy wasn't quite sure what she wanted to happen. But she knew this much: she never wanted to go through this kind of ordeal again.

" _Fly, Elfman!"_ Brain screamed, "only a hundred feet to go!"

Elfman, indeed, flew. He cleared his mind of all else.

"He's halfway up." Gray reminded the others.

"Halfway to doom." The white-haired leader corrected. "We're fifty feet from safety, and as soon as we're up, I'll cut loose the rope and…" He allowed himself to laugh.

Forty feet.

Elfman pulled.

Twenty.

Ten.

It was over. They were safe. Elfman had done what had seemed to Lucy to be impossible. The group struggled to their feet, Gray assisting the Princess over to a nearby boulder. He and Elfman looked over the cliffs edge.

The man in black was less than three hundred feet away.

"It's really a shame," said Elfman, staring down the cliff face with the swordsman. "Such a man to climb all that way so quickly deserves better than to-" he stopped talking then, as the head of the group finally managed to cut loose the rope. It whipped off of the clifftop, spiraling as it fell into the Channel below.

The giant, who had jumped back to dodge the flailing line, again peered down.

"He's got very good arms." He stated simply.

Brain hurried over and stared down the cliff in what would have been awe, excepting that Brain was never in awe. (That's always been the trouble with overly logical folks; no sense of wonder.)

"He didn't fall?!" He demanded, removing anything resembling amazement from his face. "That's inconceivable!"

"You need to stop using that word." Said the dark-haired man to his left. "Because I don't think it means what you think it means." He turned his attention back to the man below. "My God. He's climbing."

Sure enough, the man in black was slowly, painstakingly, pulling himself up.

"Well, whoever he is," said Brain, "he has obviously seen us with the Princess and must therefore die!' He turned to Elfman. "Carry her. You," he turned to Gray, "Catch up when he's dead. If he falls, fine. If not, the sword." He started to gather their supplies.

"I'm going to duel him left-handed."

"I'm sorry, did you forget that we're in a hurry here?!" Demanded Brain.

"Come on, man. It's the only way it satisfies. If I use my right, it's over to quickly."

"Oh, have it your way."

They left, and Gray was alone.

He stretched, tested his foot work. Bored with this, he walked back over to the cliff's edge and watched the man in black as he climbed. Gray soon saw that he was pounding his fists into the crevices between the rocks, rather than exhausting his fingers by attempting to grip at the stones. When there was a place to support his feet, the man in black would use it, but it was the jamming of his fists that made his perilous ascent possible.

Gray stared in awe. He was something, to be sure, this man in black. He was close enough now that the shirtless man could see that he was wearing a mask, a black hooded type that concealed the man's face from the nose on up. Another outlaw, maybe? If so, what was the purpose of their struggle against one another?

 _Oh, whatever_. Gray decided. _No point in wasting sympathy. Someday, somebody's going to kill me, and the world's gonna just keep on turning._

He stood to his feet. He was ready, but the man in black still had about a hundred and fifty feet to go.

Nothing left to do but wait.

Gray hated waiting.

So, to make the time pass a bit more pleasantly, he slowly pulled his one, his only love, from the scabbard.

The six-fingered sword.

How it shimmered in the light of the morning sun. How glorious and true. Gray brought it to his lips, and with all the fervor in his lonesome heart, he kissed the icy metal…

* * *

 _ **Tada!**_

 _ **Hope you had a great time reading this portion. Like, follow… Please Review, guys. It really helps me maintain focus on my writing.**_

 _ **Which makes me update more… ;)**_

 _ **Lala Salaam,**_

 _ **~Mwali**_


	10. Like Old Friends

Chapter 5, Part 4: Gray

 **GET OFF MY LAWN! Come inside instead! We have Wi-Fi, fanfiction and Pizza!**

 **Trying to keep up guys, truly I am! Here you go!**

Gray paced along the cliff's edge. The mysterious Man in Black was now only fifty feet below him, still climbing steadily. However, the swordsman's patience was by now bubbling beyond control. He stood at the edge, looking down at the hooded figure.

Forty-six feet now.

"Hey down there!" Gray hollered when he could not wait any longer.

The Man in Black looked up and grunted.

"Slow going?" He asked.

"Hey look," replied the stranger "this is not as easy as I may make it seem, so please don't distract me."

"SorRY," Answered Gray.

"You're forgiven!" He shouted back, returning to the work at hand.

The bare-chested man drummed his long thin fingers on his thigh before responding. "Could you pick up the pace? I'm bored."

"IF you're in such a HURRY," the Man in Black said, clearly angry now, "you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something USEFUL to do."

"I could," Gray agreed, "there is some rope up here. But I don't think you'd want my help. I'm just waiting so I can kill you."

"That IS a barrier against a meaningful relationship."

"But I find you interesting, so I won't kill you until you reach the top."

"That's very comforting," replied the climber below, "but I'm afraid you're gonna have to wait, buddy!"

"I hate waiting." The swordsman paced some more before continuing, "I could give you my word as a gentleman!"

"No good. I've known too many so-called 'gentlemen'."

Gray sighed. "So there's no way to make you trust me?"

"Nothing I can think of." Answered the Man in Black, who was now only twenty feet below.

After a long pause of consideration, Gray replied, "I swear on the souls of Silver and Mika Fullbuster, I will help you reach the top alive."

The Man in Black was silent for what seemed like an eternity. "I have no clue who those people are," He admitted at last, "But something in my heart says I must believe you." He sighed. "Alright! Throw me the rope, already!"

At this, the dark-haired man unwound a few feet of extra rope from the large anchoring boulder, and tossed the end over the edge.

A few moments later, the mystery man was scampering to his feet, his sword half-drawn.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-we'll wait until you're ready." Gray said, hands held out in front of him.

"Oh… Thank you." Replied the man in black. He sheathed his blade.

"Have a seat?" The bare-chested man asked, gesturing to the large boulder with the remains of the rope around it.

"I will. Again, thank you…" And the two sat beside one another like old friends.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Gray spoke up. "This is gonna sound weird, but… You wouldn't happen to have six fingers on your right hand, would you?"

The man in black scoffed and rubbed his pink goat-teed chin. "That's one Hell of a way to start a conversation."

"My parents were slain by a six-fingered man." Gray explained seriously.

The smirk fell from the mystery man's face. He held up his right hand wordlessly. Five fingers.

The shirtless swordsman's shoulders slumped.

"Sorry to disappoint." The man in black said, his voice truly pained.

"Nah, it's fine." Gray replied. "They were great sword-makers, my parents. The six-fingered man came to us and requested a special sword. No sword ever worked well for him because the hilt was never right for his hand. He desired a sword without equal. My parents were so excited by the challenge, they refused to be paid until he came to pick it up. They worked for a nearly year before they finished." At this, he reverently drew his blade and offered it to the masked man.

"I've never seen anything like it." Said the man in black, testing its balance in his hand. He returned it to its bearer.

"I wish you could have seen them work. Anyway, the six-fingered man returned and demanded it… At one tenth his promised price. Called it a piece of junk, scrap metal not worth having." As Gray went on, the man in black grit his teeth with rage. The dark-haired man appreciated that. "My father said that if he felt that way, if he could not know art when it lay on the table before him, that he didn't deserve it, and that the sword was mine, if he was such an uncultured pig. The six-fingered man snatched up the sword and cut my father's heart out. The bastard even slit my mother's throat before she could even cry out. Right in front of me. I loved my parents. So, naturally, I challenged their murderer to a duel… I failed, but the six-fingered man left me alive. Not without some 'lessons in humility.'" Gray gestured to the twin scars on either cheek.

"How old were you?"

"I was eleven years old. I dedicated my life to fencing after that. Next time we meet, I will not fail. I will look in his eyes and say 'Hello, my name is Gray Fullbuster… You killed my parents. Prepare to die!'"

In the air that followed, the man in black did something Gray did not expect.

He laughed.

"I'm Sorry! I'm so sorry." He regained himself, and said "That just reminded me of that line from that book Princess Bride. ' _Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!'"_

"Have you literally not been paying attention since Chapter One!?" Gray demanded.

"Huh?"

"Oh forget it!"

"So that's all you've done?"

"Well, mostly. Did some studying abroad, but mostly under Ur Milkovich. But now, it's been ten years, and I've been losing confidence. I just work for Brain to pay the bills. There's not a lot of money in vengeance."

"I see."

"That reminds me," said the bare-chested man, "Speaking of Brain, why have you been following us?"

"You carry cargo of great value."

"Unfortunately, it's not for sale. Believe me, I'd hand her over to you in a heartbeat. I hate this."

"Is it too much to hope for that you'll kindly step aside, so I can get what I came for?"

"Sorry."

"Oh, okay. It was worth a try." The man in black rose to his feet.

"So, you're ready?" Asked Gray.

"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair."

They drew their swords.

"You seem like an okay guy. I hate to kill you."

" _You_ seem like an okay guy. I hate to die."

Gray shrugged. "Begin."

 _ **DUN DUN DUN!**_

 _ **Okay, so… I'm a turd.**_

 _ **Seriously though, this was like the hardest chapter to write yet. (Stupid dialogue)**_

 _ **Also, I briefly lost the muse for the story, and I don't like to force writing.**_


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